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TKe gift of 
















1850. ' 





The subject of this book has had the charge of the 
Under Ground Eall Boad at Syracuse for many years— 
therefore ^f^^'' ' •,, to the friends of that Road. oil 
both sides of the water, hoping they will be charitable to 
its blemishes and defects, and countenance its circulation 
to the extent of its merits. **' 



lEhtared aoeording to act of Oongresst in the jrear 1869, hf 


in fhe deck's oAce of the District Ooan of the tTnited StAtM 

for the Koifthern District of Ketr York. 


Eyery book has its preface. A >*^^*viihoiit a 
preface, would be like a city WxCiiOtit u. -jrefetory, or 
an animal with part only of the organs necessary to 
its existence. 

We hare proposed to write the Biography of Rev. 
Jbrmain Wesley Loguen, and we have given its 
features in the following pages accurately. We took 
the features from him and filled up the picture. Wo 
began with his parents, infancy, childhood, and traced 
him from the Southern prison through the wilderness, 
. and Canada, and back to the United States again, to 
fight the enemy all through the anti-slavery war to the 
end of the Jerry Rescue — giving the particulars of 
that Rescue, with the names of persons engaged in it, 
on one side and on the other. 

The latter half of the life of Mr. Loguen stands out 
before the world. The other half is buried in the 
Cimmerian night of slavery. Defective as is our taste 


and ability in giving the former, it will be allowed 
that wo have been true to it, because the world has 
seen it. It is that portion in the folds of slavery only 
that may be questioned and criticised. It will be 
more likely to be questioned, because some few facts, 
circumstances, and discourse, not connected with Mr. 
LoGUEN'8 experience with slavery, have been supplied 
to connect the real facts of his life, and furnish variety 
for the reader. Whoever reads such portion, or any 
portion of this book, will remember, that not a fact 
relating to his, or his mother's, or brother's, or sister's 
experience with slavery, is stated, that is not, literally 
or substantially, true. Those facts were history before 
they were written*; and they were written because 
they were history. 

We have adopted the popular form or style in our 
narrative, in respect to popular taste ; and, as afore* 
said, occasionally supplied vacancies in his southern 
life froni bur own fancy ; burt in every case that we 
have done so, the picture is outside Mr. Loqubn's 
experience with slavery — and the picture, be it fact, 
opinion, or argument, may be adopted, and all we have 
given as his slave life will remain true. The reader, 
therefore, will test every such case by the question — 
" Does it involve Mr. Loguen's experience of slavery, 
or that of his mother, or family, or any one else ? " 


If it does involye one or the other of them, it is sub- 
stantially, if not literally, true, as related. 

Again. For obvious reasons, we have not always 
used real names when writing of real persons ; for we 
would not involve living friends, or their families, for 
thsir good deeds. We refer now to Mr. Loguen's life 
in Tennessee, not to his life in New York, or Canada. 
In Tennessee, slavery rules the tongue, the press, and 
the pen. In New York and Canada, these are given 
to free judgment and discretion.^ At the north, men 
are answerable for such judgment and discretion to the 
law only. At the south, they are amenable to an over- 
grown monster that devours alike law and humanity. 
At the south, we give Mr. Loguen's connection with 
slavery, and therefore conceal names. At the north, 
we give his connection with liberty, and therefore give 
names of friends and enemies alike. 

Because the circuit of Mr. Loguen's activities has 
been large, we have necessarily followed him all around 
the course ; and have been obliged briefly to note the 
growth of public opinion in favor of freedom, until 
freedom snapped her cords in Syracuse, and in the 
country around Syracuse, and in other places. In 
doing so, we have given particulars, and used the 
names of friends and foes with absolute truthfulness. . 

Though we have spoken freely, we doubt not there 


were other persons, equally, if not more deserving of 
honorable notice, than some we have named. Modest 
and retiring men are often most eflFective when bravery 
and strength are needed, but, nevertheless, they blush 
at a record of their own qualities. They vote, or 
strike, and retire out of sight. When justice opens a 
picture gallery to display the faces of those who have 
doi;ie much for African freedom, we shall see many 
noble faces in it, whi6h are now obscure, in our villages 
and towns. If an artist would pass through those 
villages and towns, and engrave those faces in a book 
over a sketch of their deeds and lives, he would 
have a book posterity would love to look at. It 
would be a book of great thoughts, great hearts, 
and great men — ^men who were the receptacles in the 
body politic, to receive the inflowing life of Heaven, 
and diffuse it over the system, and bring it to life 
again — the real Saviours of the country. 

We have put into the mouths of some of the charac- 
ters, religious counsels, ideas, opinions, and s^timents, 
which may not, and of course cannot, coincide with 
the divided and distracted theories of the age. All 
we ask of the reader in regard to these, is, that ho 
will be as charitable to them, as they are to him. 
.Those counsels, ideas, opinions, and sentiments, are 
req)onsible only to truth, and conscience, and reason ; 


and we kindly ask fhe reader to sabmit them to those 
heavenly vicegerents, and not charge them as a sin 
upon the Editor, or anybody else. 

But the enquiry may be made — " What is the call 
for- such a book ; are we to have a book for every 
man or woman who is good and usefbl among their 
fellows ? " Our answer is, it would be well if we had. 
This is not only a reading age, but it is a new age, 
and it is well to occupy our youth with its philosophy 
and &ct8. Hen do not think, or labor, or travel, or 
live, as they did fifly years ago ; and still the change 
is onward. For a long time invisible mental powers 
have been turning society on its hiuges to let in a new 
dispensation of leamiug, religion, and life. There is 
a spripg in all departments of humanity for a " long 
pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together," to move 
mankind on to a higher and a better level ; and our 
young readers should know that colored men furnish 
a quota of the mental and physical muscle that pro- 
duces tibe motion* Society is in process of incubation, 
and we should know whence is the heat and substance 
that embody and cherish the embryo. We should 
'keep an eye on the formative elements, to see what 
portion is subsiding and dying, and what portion is 
combining to form the substance and life of the coming 
age. The African element contributes ^largely to the 


causes that agitate mankind, and must have its place 
in the product The vital powers are attracted to it 
by force of the charities that make them vital, and are 
amalgamating with .that element to form a new basis 
for society — a basis on which it will stand in the order 
of heaven, humanity, and religion — when men may 
look at it, and not start back affrighted. 

We have come, therefore, to consider and honor a 
new element in the social state, and for that reason a 
man like Mr. Logubn becomes a subject of speculative 
and philosophical enquiry. At such a time, colored 
men are Divine instrumentalities for Divine ends. 
Hence, so many of them have dodged their, masters 
and their chains, — broken through the clouds, and 
become conspicuous in the intellectual and moral firm- 

In a mere preface, it becomes us not to anticipate 
history ; but in answer to the question, " Why should 
the history of Loguen be written ?" we may say, that 
though God has distinguished other colored men, by 
genius, learning, eloquence, and high deserts, he has 
distinguished Loguen more than all others with that 
noble and enlightened courage, which, at the earliest" 
moment, turned upon the tyrant and defied his power. 
Instantly upon the fugitive slave enactment, and before 
that even, he proclaimed, with a voice that was heard 


throughout slavcdom — ^*'I am a fugitive slave from 
"Tennessee. My master is Manasseth Logue — the 
" letter of the law gives him a title to my person— ^and 
" let him come and take it? Ill not run, nor will I 
"give him a penny for my freedom." He was an 
example of courage to white and black men alike, 'to 
set slave laws at defiance, and trample them under his 
feet, — at a time, too, when such an example was 
needed, to mesmerise the drowsy spirits of both classes, 
and move them to break the crust which pro-slavery 
usages formed over them, and let the waters of life 
fldV freely. 

It needs little observation to see that the tide of 
aflFairs has reached the point, when men of power are 
needed, with moral courage to face the false and selfish, 
and in regard to slavery, the devilish policy and usages 
of the world, and avow in a manner to arrest the 
attention and legislation thereof, that " Human Rights " 
are the limits of Divine, and, of course, of all human 
law, — and that all enactments beyond those limits are 
void. Precisely at this point in the order of Provi- 
dence, the 'men, the God-appointed men to do so, 
appear. We need not name them. Some of them are 
among the dead, many of them are among the living. 
They are the lights of the age, and saviors of the coun- 
try — the monarchs of progress, in politics, in morals. 


and religion. By these, politics; and morals, and reli- 
gion, are being regenerated, and society is evidently 
in prosperous effort to attain its natural and heayenly 

But if men are selected and gifted to -impress the 
law of freedom, it is needful also that somebody be 
. gifted with the sublime qualities, that shall lead him 
in defiance of penalties, to tread upon tiie enactments 
and constitutions that transgress such law. Pity, 
amazing pity, there are so few among white men gifted 
and commissioned to do so. As if to yindicate the 
deserts and dignity of all races, God has taken fr<ta 
the ranks of the severest bondage, Jermain W. Lo- 
GUEN, representing equally the blood of the elave-holder 
and the blood of the slave, the extremes of inverted 
humanity, and qualified and commissioned him, and 
made him alone conspicuous among black men, and 
most conspicuous among all men, practically and per- 
sooally, to nullify all slave laws, and boldly to defy 
the enemies of human rights to enforce them. 

Therefore, his name is entitled to a place upon the 



chapter to tJie pareats of 

The genealogj of AD Antrii^ji Slave may be traced 
with certainty to tho mtitlicr, wrely to the father, nev- 
er beyond them oil^ the iTLaI<?4inc. It ia the condition 
of the mother de facto that mat^ the alave. Sbe is 
mother de kg€ only to the iuteni thiUv^jer off , 
may be an outlaw. As to the prog^uft^^ ®^^ 
Bide, he is rarely known aa the father in ^%ii w^f^"^ 
law. The slave has no father. Slave legislation 1 1 
no HBO of a paternal lino, and refnaes to acknowlcdgd^^ 
one. It acknowledges a mother, not in respect to any '* 
natural relation, but for accommodation, as the medi- 
um of titles, not of affections and obligations. Legal- 
ly speaking, the slave has neither father or mother. 

Slavery, of course, has no records of conjugal rela- 
tions. Should the Clairvoyant translate and publish 
the secrets of its history, the domestic relations of the 

12 J. W. LOGUEN. 

South would be broken, up, and eociety pink in the j 
abyss of vulgar passions. It owes its existence to the ^. 
fact that its sexual history is feintiiy shadowed in the ( 
varied colors of the abused race. / 

It is hardly proper to pass by these familiar truths, y 
while placing upon the record the life and character of 
Jermain W. Loguen. It is to be presumed that hjfs 
physical, intellectual and moral qualities, partake^of 
the character of his ancestors, and that they were n^od- 
ifled by the influences that surrounded his childhood. 

The mother of Mr. Loguen is a pure African/ Her 
ekin is jet black, and her hair short and curl^ to the 
head. She is now, if living, near as can be determined, 
about seventy years of age. In her joxfXh. and matu- 
rity her face was fair, and her, featijrts marked and 
regular — ^her bodily proportions^J^ge, symmetrical, 
round, and muscular — ^presenting a model of health and 
strength, and a specimen o£.the best of her race. 

Of her parents and^^^iMred of any kind, she is per^ 
fectly ignoranW r?jtie extent of her recollection is, 
that she^pi^ldree in her in&ncy, in the guardianship of 
^ Ij^ii in Ohio, by the name of McCoy, with whom she 
lived until about seven years of age. She remembers 
that she was out of sight and hearing of Mr. McCoy's 
house, alone, when she was such little girl, and that a 
bad man got out of a covered wagon and took her in- 
to it with one hand about her body and the other upon 
her mouth to prevent her screams — that when she got 
into the wagon, he held her in his lap, and told the 
teamster to drive on — that there were several other 
little colored children in the wagon with her — and 


xthat they were takea over the river together in a boat ; 
probably into Kentucky. 

This story she often repeated to her son, and kindled 
in his boyhood the intensest indignation against the in- 
stitation which bo outraged the mother he loved. All 
other memories were drowned in the sorrows and ter- 
rors which at that time overwhelmed her spirit, and' 
the brutal associations and treatment she received 

Thua all recollection of parents, kindred and friends 
of every kind, were merged in the clouds which the 
kidnappers drew about her; and she has not heard the 
name of any one of them pronounced from that day to 
this. She is as if she never had any parents, or kin- 
dred, or, as if they were all buried and forgotten. 
That she was once ft'ee, she has the most distinct re- 
membrance, and a flickering recollection of happy days 
in early childhood, still faintly illumines the dark 
horizon of her memory. 

She does not remember the pre .. ^lumber of 
wretched little children, boyjB and girlb, v^ho. ». ^'-^ ^n 
the wagon with her, but thinks they were ab6ut hex 
age, and all involved in the intensest grief, She re- 
members that their cries and sobs, like her own, were 
silenced by the terrors of the lawless villains who had 
them in diarge. 

We may be allowed to remark that these colored 
orphans illustrate the helplessness of the whole colored 
race, in a country where slavery is guarded as lawful 
and sacred. In proportion as slavery has the protec- 
tion of law, do the persons of all colored men, wo- 

14 J. W. LOGtJEN. 

men and children, lose the protection of law. As the 
condition of the former is hopeful and secure, is the 
latter desperate and exposed to outrage. Not only 
does the colored man suflFer from the cont^npt and 
insolence of the favored class, but his or her person is 
outlawed to the limited and unlimited abuses of the 
conscienceless men who make them their prey. De- 
velopments of such enormities, incidentally and occa- 
sionally appear, as specks of light through " the blank- 
et of the dark" upon the black volume Which i^ out of 

These unhappy little ones were at the age, when 
childhood carols its joys with the birds, and ]^ounds 
like lambs in the pastures at the touch of angels. 
For long and weary days and nights, not a motion or 
sound of delight, not a joyous look or laugh, varied 
their depression and wretchedness. The oblivion of 
sleep was the only solace of the little suflFerers ; iind 
even this was often tortured by the pressure of misery, 
and the silence of night broken by their sighs and 
sobs. Whether, like the mother of Mr. Logueh, they 
were stolen from their parents, or purchased from those 
who should have protected them, is unknown. Their 
story is untold or it is forgotten, and their history is a 
secret only to him who gathered little children in his 
arms to represent the kingdom of God. 

After they passed the river, the kidnappers sold 
them, one after another, as they could light of purcha- 
sers on the road. The mother of Mr. Loguen was 
left or sold to three brothers, David, Games, and Ma- 
nasseih Logue, who lived in a small log house on 


He attempted again to lay hold of her — and careless 
of caste and slave laws, she grasped the heavy stick 
nsed to stir the malt, and dealt him a blow which made* 
him reel and retire. But he retired only to recover 
and retmn with the fatal knife, and threats of ven- 
geance and death. Again she aimed the club with 
unmeasured force at him, and hit the hand which held 
the weapon, and dashed it to a distance from him. 
Again he rushed upon her with the fury of a madman, 
and she then plied a blow upon his temple, which laid 
him, as was supposed, dead at her feet. 

• This incident, though nO portion of the biography 
of her SOQ, is introduced to show the qualities of the 
woman who bore him, and which those acquainted 
with him wUl infer dhe imparted to him. This, and 
like scenes, formed the cradle in which the infant spirit 
of Jermain W. Loguen was rocked. 

Cherry, unterrified by the deed we have related, did 
not fikse to escape the application of tte severe laws 
she had violated by striking a white man. She left 
the now passionless and apparently lifeless villain, 
bleeding not only from the wound inflicted, but from 
his nose and ears also, to inform her masters of the en- 
counter, and meet the consequences. She told them 
she bad killed the wretch, and the whole family of Lo- 
gues hastened to the distillery to look, as they sup 
posed, upon the face of their dead neighbor. They 
found him laying in his gore. But upon raising him 
and washing his wounds, he showed signs of life, though 
it seemed likely he would die 

To curtail a story which may seem an interpolation, 

22. J. W. LOGUEN. 

after the most unremitting caxe and skilful attention of 
the best surgeons and physicians they could procure-^ 
and after the lapse of many weeks, during which time 
he was stretched on a sick bed, and racked by pains 
and fevers— after drinking to the dregs as severe a 
cup as ever touched a slaveholder's lips, he recovered. 

In the meantime Cherry was shielded from harm, 
partly by the shame of her violator^^partly by her 
masters' sense of justice— more because they had a 
beastly affection for her as a family chattel — -more still 
because they prized her as property — ^but most of all 
because she was the admitted mistress of David La 
gue, the father of Jermain, then about si^ years of 

He (Jermain) well remembers the case and the ex- 
citement produced by it in the family and neighbor- 
hood. His memory was refreshed with the rehearsal 
of it for years by the family and the negroes. 

When Cherry arrived at about the age of twenty- 
eight, she was the mother of three children. To this 
period, she had never passed through the ceremonial * 
sham of a negro marriage, but for years, as stated 
above, had been the admitted mistr^s of David Logue, 
the father of her children. 

Here we may be permitted to record a fact well 
known at the south, and allowed by most white men, 
and by all slaves, to wit : that a young negress is often 
her master's mistress, until childbear?ng and years ren- 
der it tasteful or convenient to sell the offspring from 
his sight, and exchange her for another victim. Such 


tiras the relation Cherry sostained to David Logae, 
and such too her fate. 

At this point we drop the mother to consider briefly 
the character of the father. 

It is rarely possible for a slave to identify his father 
with 80 much certainty as in this case. In a society 
where promisonous intercourse is allowable, as at 
Manscoe's Greek, the chastity of white men of course 
does not transcend the chastity of black women ; and 
the conspicuity of virtue, is apparent, only, in the fidel- 
ity of the slave girl to her condition of mistress. On 
this point the conduct of Cherry was a bright example , 
and her fidelity to that relation was confessed and al- 
lowed, not by the parties only, but by the fiimily and 

JanU) as Mr. Loguen was called when a slave, re- 
members when a very little child he was the pet of 
Dave, as his father was also nicknamed, that he slept 
in his bed sometimes, and was caressed by him— he 
also received from him many little fevors and kind- 
nesses which won his young heart* As his body and 
fgfttures grew to fixedness and maturity, all who knew 
them both, instantly recognized a personal, and even a 
spiritual resemblance. • 

On his recent visit to the fugitive slaves in Canada, 
Mr, Loguen met a ftigitive from the neighborhood of 
his old master in Tennessee. She informed him that 
she was struck with his resemblance to his father — 
that his size and form — ^his walk and motions, every 
thing but his hair and complexion, was a striking ex- 
pression of him— that from his walk, alone, she should 

24 J. W. LOQUEN, 

take him for the same man at a distance, if his faee 
was concealed. 

Thus was Mr. Loguen taught by his mother, by the 
treatment of his infancy, by the admitted fact in the 
femily and neighborhood, by family resemblance, not 
of person only, but as we shall see by the impulses of 
his spirit, that David Logue was his veritable father. 

With his other brothers, David lived at the paternal 
mansion of their widowed mother, when Cherry came 
into their possession. They were all three, young men. 
David, the youngest, probably uot over eighteen years 
of age. Jermain never saw or heated of a schoolhouse 
or school, or meeting house, at Manscoe's Creek, nor 
does he believe there were either. Many of the plant- 
ers were ignorant of letters. Their Sundays were 
spent in sport and dissipation. Their agriculture re- 
sembled the Indian culture on the Onondaga Reserva- 
tion in the State of New York. Mr. Loguen never 
passes through that Reservation in the Summer, with- 
out being sensibly reminded of the scenes of his child- 
hood. The houses were all log houses, and the people 
even more destitute than the Indians of the means of 
intellectual, moral, and religious culture. 

Nevertheless, the father of Mr. Loguen was not de- 
void of noble and generous impulses. He was full 
six feet high, sprightly in the use of abundant muscle ; 
an impulsive, drinking, and chivalrous rowdy — ^unscru- 
pulous in his pleasures — but ever ready to help a friend 
or smite a foe. Had be been cast amid the privileges 
of northern culture, instead of the creature of passion 
and indulgence that he was, his excellent physical and 


intellectual qualities might have blosscmied into the 
highest use — ^the public might have honored him as a 
benefactor, and Jermoin loved and revered him as a 
father. Even now, bowed down, as it is said he is, by 
poverty and dissipation, it would be a real pleasure to 
Mr. Loguen to contribute to his &ther's necessities-and 
help the infirmities of his sin smitten and rapidly decli- 
ning age. 

We need not dwell longer upon the father and 
mother of Mr. Loguen. We have given enough for 
the purposes of our story, and their character and con- 
dition, will, of coui-se, be further illustrated by fietcts to 
appear in the history. 


In the ordinary and acknowledged relations of life, 
tiie mere naked facts attending the infancy of any man 
or woman, are the farthest removed from romance or 
interest. They must be the result of an individual or 
social departure from the order of nature, to claim a 
slight attention. Nevertheless, we must devote a little, 
attention to the infancy of Loguen. 

The fact that shocks us in the infancy of a southern 
slave, is, that its story cannot be told. No facilities 
are provided to mark its steps or preserve its memo- 
ries. A slave baby is the ofifspring of brute passion 

26 J. W. LOG0BIN. 

and the subjeot of brute neglect and suffering. It 
claims no greater sympathy and care than any other 
animal of the sty or the field. The angels, who. de* 
light to touch the delicate fibres of the brain, and com* 
municate the joys of heaven, and paint them on an in* 
fant's face, are driven away by oppression, that the 
most perfect medium of Gods converse ^.'u coiy unction 
with man may be tortured and distorted by devils. 
Black and damning will be the record of the crimes 
and cruelties by which thousands of these little inno- 
cents are let into heaven. 

The above remarks are made, not because they apply 
to the infancy of Mr. Loguen, for they do not— but 
because they do apply, as a general truth, to the great 
body of children who are born as Mr.- Loguen was. 
We should do injustice to history, did we present his 
infancy or childhood other than as an exception to the 
general rule. He has every reason to believe that his 
infancy was cared for by the strongest maternal affec- 
tion consistent with his mother's servitude, guarded as 
he believes it was by. the instincts of a lawless, but 
naturally susceptible father. Multitudes of kindnesses 
partialities, and unquestionable loves, are indelibly 
written upon his memory, which he thinks contributed 
to the formation of his character. They are lessons 
which even now temper and molify his passions, as he 
sees them through the sorrows and trials and outrages 
and storms that are piled upon his pathway. 

" Jump on my back, Jarm,'' half whispered Dave, as, 
rifle in hand, he stepped lightly down the bank of the 
crook where little Jarm was playing with the pebbles, 


Bttiting his bulky frame to the body of a child three or 
four years old* 

Well did the child understand the accustomed cere- 
mony, and he clasped his little arms upon his father^s 

" Be still now — say not a word and you shall see me 
shoot a deer." 

"Where is a deer?" said the child, wliile Dave 
neared a bunch of bushes, and pointed to an animal 
the former took for a pet calf, which had grown up 
tinder his eye, and for which he cherished a child's 

" Don't say a word now — ^you will scare the deer 
away, if you do," repeated Dave. 

Jarm was obedient, while Dave with his load, which 
was scarce more than a fly on a giants' shoulder, crept 
slyly into the jungle, and crouching by a log, rested 
his rifle on it, and drove a bullet through the body of 
the beautiful animal. The deer with dying energy, 
leaped and poured his mortal bleat upon the air, then 
staggered and fell. 

Poor little Jarm was in an exstacy of grief, and 
made the plantation echo with his screams, and brought 
the whole swarm of whites arid blacks to his relief. 
His cry was "Ho has killed the calf,'^ "he has killed 
the calf." Even old " Granny," as Jarm called the 
mother of the Logues, hearing the screams, came to 
see what mattered the little favorite chattel. 

Ere they assembled, Dave had the game, bleeding 
from the deep gash his knifo had made in the throat, 


28 J. W. LOGUEN. 

at the feet of the child, and was soothing him with the 
tenderness of a father's love. 

The boy soon saw his mistake, and was laughed and 
petted into a tremulous composure ; but the shock of 
seeming cruel tj made an indelible impression on his 
spirit and memory. To others, it was an amusing said 
vanishing incident — to Jarm, it was a lesson of life. 

Life, truly and philosophically speaking, is the form 
and embodiment of thoughts and • affections. Li its 
utrinterrupted current from the uncreated fountain, it 
creates and vivifies material receptacles in the form of 
angels, and also of all that is healthful, beautiful, love- 
ly, innocent and correspondent of heaven, in animal 
and vegetable nature. But when that current is inter- 
cepted, and passes througji the medium of infernal loves, 
it creates and vivifies other receptacles of monstrous 
forms. Hence all the noxious plants, and loathsome 
insects, and poisonous reptiles, and ferocious animals, 
and hateful men, correspondent, all, to the vari^ pas- 
sions of Hell. Hence the slaveholder and the slave. 

The life of little Jarm blossomed in the shape of an 
angel, but receptive of the disordered affections and 
monster passions around him. The problem must be 
solved, whether he should resist those surrounding af- 
fections and passions, and preserve his virgin life, or 
be deformed into a monster. The incident just related 
was the first shock upon his spirit which he remembers. 
It is introduced to show the condition of his childhood, 
but may be noted as the commencement of incidents 
which were to form hid manhood.. The fcHms of feel- 
ing and consequent combinations of thought, which are* 


the lifb of a child, manufacture tlie spiritual cable 
wMch holds him amidst the storms and tempests of the 
world, or leaves him a wreck upon its waves. To 
change the figure, they are the causes which ultimate 
the hero, the despot and the slave. 

The first ten years of Jarm's life was to him a period 
of much freedom, fie was as well fed and housed as 
any other little savage. A single loose, coarse cotton 
garment covered his burly body, and he was left in 
summer to hunt mice and chipmonks, catch little fishes, 
or play with the ducks and geese in the creek, and 
tumble down and sleep in the sun or shade if he was 
weary ; and in the winter, covered only by the same 
garment, to sit in the comer and parch corn, scatter it 
among the fowls and pigs, (his peers in the sphere of 
plantation rights) and occasionally ride on Dave's back 
or trot by his side, to the great house, (about the size 
of a moderate log cabin on the Onondaga Kcserve) and 
have a frolic with him and " Granny," and perhaps 
stay over night. 

It was the only schooling he ever enjoyed— for he 
was left to his own thoughts and invisible instructors. 
And though doubtless he came to as valuable intellec- 
tual results as any boy, it must be confessed the school 
was better adapted to physical than mental develop- 
mentv His tender muscles swelled and hardened with 
the severity of hl*^ voluntary exercise, and no boy on 
the plantation or in the neighborhood, black or white, 
could measure strength with him. Personally, he suf- 
fered no treatment- from his masters which hinted to 
him that he was a slave. 

80 J. W. LOGUEN. 

But he was at school, and was not to eat and drink, 
and sleep and grow only — but to think also. The 
story of the deer was the first item in lifers reality, 
gently pictured on the canvas, which, ere long, was . 
to be covered with black, ugly, and unendurable forms. 
As the days and months increased, the items multi- 
plied. He saw little boys and girls brutally handled 
for deeds, and even no deeds, which he knew would 
not attract censure had he been the subject. In his 
day dreams, it puzzled him to know why he was secure 
and petted, while they were insecure and abused. 

Forbearance and, forgiveness, or any of the virtues 
of charity, find little root in the soil af slavery ; but 
passion, revenge and violence come up as in a hot bed, 
and are familiar to every eye. The oft repeated 
sights, instead of darkening, sharpened the eye of 
Jarm, and stimulated his enquiry. They made him 
think the more. When, as near as he can guess, he 
arrived at the age of seven or eight years, loitering on the 
bank of the creek at the close of a summer's day, he 
saw his mother coming with unusual steps. It was ob- 
vious to Jarm that she was in distress, for her head, usu- 
ally erect, was downcast, and her sighs and sobs were 
borne almost noiselessly on the light wind to the heart 
of her son. 

" What is the matter ?" with animated voice exclaim- 
ed Jarm. 

The poor woman, absorbed by grief, had not noticed 
her darling ; and was even then thinking not to shock 
his young heart by appearing before him, until the de- 
pression which bent her down, and the crimson signals 


upon her person, had disappeared in the waters oi 
Manseoe's Creek. The idea came too late. All trem- 
bling with indignant sorrow, surprise and love, at the 
Bight of her boy, she rushed towards him, raised him 
from the ground, and pressing him to her bosom ex- 
claimed in a Yoice of hysteric earnestness : 

" Oh my poor boy, what will become of you?" 

Jarm felt there was a sadness and significance in 
her emphasis, altogether unusual, which, with the trem- 
ulous pressure of her embrace communicated a nervous 
sympathy to his heart, and was already changing, his 
spirit by the influx of a new idea. 

" What is the matter, mother, and what makes you 
bloody ?" instantly asked the little boy. 

" You will understand such things too soon. Don't 
ask me about it,'' replied the mother, as she sat him on 
his feet again, and let fall a drop of blood from her 
brow on the face of the child. 

He wiped the stain away on his coarse shirt, and 
plied the enquiry with a concern which could not be 

Fearing he would pursue the subject at the house, 
with the slaves, with Dave, and even with Carnes, and 
thereby involve himself and perhaps forfeit his future 
security by an alarming independence which was in- 
creasing with his years, and which was less likely to 
be indulged as her attractions and intimacy with Dave 
were failing, she determined to improve the occasion 
for liis benefit. SKe trembled lest his unrestrained 
spirit should be an inconvenience to her oppressors, 
and that Dave would consent to the breaking it, by the 

82 J. W. LOGUEN. 

same brutal treatment that other little colored children 
of the plantation suffered — or what waa worse, that 
they would sell him at a distance to rid themselves of 
an annoyance — therefore she determined to satisfy 
his enquiries, and if possible, determine him to a pru- 
dent silence. 

" Where is Jane ?" a little girl two years younger 
than Jarm. 

" I have just sent her to the house with the babe," 
replied Jarm — ^^ but what is the matter, mother ? do 
teU me." 

" Well, I will t^ll you," said she, " and I tell you 
that you may not speak of it to anybody, and especially 
that you do not let Mannasseth, Carnes, or even-Dave, 
know that you know it. If you should speak to them 
about it, they will not treat you so well as they have 
done ; and I fear they may whip you as they whip me ; 
and what is very dreadful, I fear they will sell you to 
the slave drivers and I shall never see you again." 

Cherry had not yet known the deep grief of parting 
with any of her children, and the fear of that heart- 
rending experiendiB often tortured her spirit. She 
knew there was no dependence upon Manasseth and 
Carnes, and that her peril increased with the increas- 
ing dissipation and consequent embarrassment of all 
the white Logues. 

Jarm had never seen his mother stricken, and his 
blood boiled when she gave the cause of her wounds 
and misery, and he asked 'fiercely "who whipped you?" 

Cherry had effectually roused the indignation of her 
boy, and saw before her precisely the presence she 


life, weighed upon his spirits and disturbed him. He 
was not old enough to comprehend its Ml import, but 
his understanding was sufficiently mature to receive 
and plant it deep in his memory, and shape his man- 
ners to its terrible demands. It had full possession of 
him, and it was sometime ere sleep closed his memory, 
and laid the surges of sorrow and anger that swelled 
within him. 

The morning found Cherry composed, and Jarm too 
was soothed and re&eshed by disturbed slumber. She 
went to her usual labors in the field, and he, after a 
breakfast of corn bread and bacon, sauntered away 
alone, to reconsider the lesson which was taught him, 
and study its philosophy and bearings. His day- 
dreams and buoyancy were laid aside, and that day 
was spent in studying the alarming reality which 
stared him in the face. 

Thus early was he forced to revolve matters of grave 
importance. His treatment by the white Logues was 
most difficult to reconcile with the perils which his 
mother thought was present with him. To his inexpe- 
rience, the enigma was inscrutable — ^but the conclusion 
was irresistible, that he and his mother were linked to 
a common destiny, and he felt his heart grappled to 
hers with a force greatly increased by sympathy for 
her sorrows, and a strong conviction of common dan- 
gcra. The causes which attached him to her, weaken- 
ed his attachment to her oppressors, which no evidence 
of kindness or affection on their part could prevent. 

Prom this time forward, though left to dispose of his 
time and body as he willed, the clouds increased and 

36 J. W. LOGUBN. 

tiiickened arotmd him. Dave's favors and caresses 
were less frequent as the months and years came on, 
and in perfect recklessness of his presence, the most 
shocking and brutal outrages were inflicted on his 
mother. His masters were late at their carousals, and 
became more and more embruited as their affairs be- 
came embarrassed. 

It was about this time that the family and neighbor- 
hood were agitated by Cherry's brave resistance and 
almost death of the licentious villain at the distillery, 
which were circumstantially related in the last chapter. 
This also served to confirm the story of his unhappy 
mother regarding the condition and danger of both, in 
the mind of her precocious and considerate child. The 
conversation among the slaves as well as among the 
whites, assured him, that not only his mother, but him- 
self also, was at the mercy of every white man, and in 
case he or ehe resisted them, be their intents never so 
murderous, the whole power of Tennessee was pledged 
to their destruction. It was much talked of and well 
understood at Manscoe's Creek, that poor Cherry had 
forfeited her life to the law, and that she held it at the 
mercy of the ignorant, and passionate, and unscrupu- 
lous people about her. 

The distance between Jarm and Dave widened as 
the intimacy between Cherry and Dave ceased. He 
soon brought to his home a white woman, who resided 
with him as a wife or a mistress, and by whom he af- 
terwards had children. Nor did Jarm regret the 
separation from his mother. The events of every day 
convinced him that their intimacy and connection was 

inpaNcy. 87 

forced and mmatuTal. His boyhood was social and 
buoyant) but it revolted firom family relations which 
seemed pr^nant with evil, and obviously destitute of 
mutual trust, affection and support. The current of 
causes was forcing the affections of the mother and son 
to a common center, and fusing them into one. He 
felt that she and their little ones were all the world to 
him* ^ 

He sympaliiised deeply witii those who were in like 
condition with himself, but to his mother, brother and 
sisters he was attached by ties which none can appre- 
ciate, but those, who, in like condition, have felt them. 

The spiritual changes which were now gradually 
formmg the great gulph between him and the white 
Logues, allowed him more leisure for thought and phy- 
sical development. His time was nearly all his own ; 
and with matnrer judgment, and greater strength, he 
pursued his game on the land and in the water. The 
harmony of woods and fields, of birds and flowers and 
bounding animals, gave birth to ideas that chimed with 
the angelic counsels of his mother, but which, in the 
&mily of his oppressors were never felt or imagined. 



Marriage (or what is called marriage) between 
slaves, is sometimes accommodated to the affections of 
the parties — always to the interest of the slaveholder. 
As its end or intent is bis interest, the feelings of the 
parties are indulged or compelled as the interest varies. 
Legally, and strictly, there is no such relation as hus- 
band and wife among slaves, because the law adjudges 
them to be things, and not men and women. They are 
chattels in law, and their sexual relations in contem- 
plation of law are the same as any other animals. The 
whole affair is in the hand of the master as a means of 
the increase and improvement of stock. Other impor* 
tant motives sometimes blend with it and subject it to 
idterior views. But the end or purpose is the same. 
The slave being "property to all intents," is subject, 
of course to the laws relating to " things," not to 
" persons." 

The strongest affections grow up between male and 
female slaves, for they are men and women, the law to 
the contrary notwithstanding. Masters too become 
tenderly attached to their female chattels, and have 
children by them without once thinking they are guilty 
of the crime against nature. That they are not thus 
guilty follows from the fact, that nature acknowledges 
the connection and the offspring as her own, which she 
ever refuses to do when the parties are not adapted to 
the highest human uses. 


seen such sights of misery in the disruption of families, 
the separating sometimes husbands from wives, and 
sometimes parents from children, that he had resolved 
never to expose himself to such misery, by becoming a 
husband or foiher. To be free of those endearing re- 
lations is the only freedom a male slave can enjoy. 
In his person, the apostle's rule is inverted, he had 
better not marry, and very many considerate ones so 
determine, and abide by the determination. Had 
Jermain "W. Loguen remained a slave, he was sworn 
never to be a husband or a father. To a sensitive 
and reflecting spirit, the greatest curse of slavery is, 
that it is doubled, and more than doubled, with every 
domestic relation. Alone, the slave suffers personal 
wrongs only ; but as a husband and father, his heart 
strings are exposed to, and his imagination tortured 
by suffering which can never be described. 

But the laws of nature are not easily controled or 
evaded. Henry's coarse and untutored nature was 
pervaded by powerfiil susceptibilities, and ere he was 
aware of it, his spirit adhered to its conjugal counter- 
part in the spirit of Cherry. The spiritual relation 
was formed before Henry's prudence was suflBcientiy 
on guard to forbid the banns. 

This attachment between Heiuy and Cherry so 
favdred the purposes of Dave, that he approached Mr. 
Barry on the subject, and asked his consent that Henry 
and Cherry be acknowledged as man and wife. Mr. 
Barry consented to the proposal, on condition that 
Henry should be consulted and his wishes pursuedr 

Henry accordingly was sent for. When the subject 

42 J. W. LOGtJEN. 

was broached to him, as if awakened by an important 
crisis, his prudence was aroused. He confessed his 
willingness that Cherry should be his wife, only on 
condition that neither he or his wife, or any children 
they might have, should ever be separated by Dave or 
Barry at a distance of more than ten miles from eadi 

Both Dave and MrC Barry readily pledged them- 
selves to the condition, and Cherry was sent for and 
presented to Henry, and he joyfully embraced her as 
his wife. 

Mr. Barry was perfectly trustworthy as to his en- 
gagement, nor was Dave less so if he continued solvent, 
for he never intended to part with Cherry or her 
children. He was by nature and habit a kind and 
generous hearted man, and such was his relation to 
Cherry and the children, that he would not think of 
separating from them after he had provided against 
suspicions which disturbed his domestic peace. 

This event was to Cherry like a morning sun after 
a dreary night. A genial atmosphere, warmed and 
healed her bruised heart. It was the gentle breath of 
spring melting icy fetters to admit the influences of 
heaven upon her soul. Her daily labors, she was hab- 
ited to as a portion of her life. She felt them not as a 
burden, now she enjoyed her hours of refreshment and 
repose with Henry. The attachment and joy were 
mutual, and for two happy years Cherry was scarce 
disturbed by one of those jars, which before, and often, 
left indelible marks upon her person. They lived in 
the aura of. their own affections, without a single care 


beyond the faithful execution of their tasks, and inven- 
tions within their means for each others happiness. 

At the end of the year their union was blessed with 
a darling boy. The rustic bosom of the innocent and 
noble natured Henry swelled with the heavenly influx 
of parental love. The very condition of slavery 
seemed to defend them against the invasion of 
cvey evil, and in an exstacy of delight they were pre- 
pared to adopt the delirious dream of the sailor, boy — 
" God, thou hast blest me. I ask for no more 1 " 
. Another year rolled away and left them in the same 
blessedness — another month and a startling light dis- 
turbed their dreams — another, and "the gay frost 
work of bliss" was gone forever. 


All unseen by Cherry and her little ones, affairs at 
Manscoe's Creek were now verging to a crisis. The * 
most important and stirring events in a slave's life 
were pressing to the surface. For a long time there 
had been quiet at home and in the field. Jarm had 
digested the lessons which had been taught Um, and 
the balsam of peace was healing the wounds upon his 
spirit. But could he have looked behind material to 

44 J. W. I.OGUBN. 

spiritual causes, he would have seen it was the quiet 
that preceded the storm — the repose that enveloped 
the lightning and the thunder, which were to break 
upon the heads of his oppressors, demolish the circle 
of his loves, and drift him to a distant part of Ten- 

As a prelude to a disaster, the community on Man- 
Bcoe^s Creek was shaken by one of those astounding 
acts of barbarism which occurs in no country but 
where chattel slavery exists, and which is there only 
occasionally permitted to demonstrate the inherent 
atrocity of the slave system. 

At a small distance from the Logues, on the opposite 
side of the Creek, lived a savage man by the name of 
Betts. He was the proprietor of a large plantation 
and a number of slaves. He was also an habitual 
drunkard, and proverbial for his passion and malice 
and cruelty ; and for such excesses, was despised, even 
by the slaveholders of the neighborhood. 

On a beautiful spring's morning, (and none more 
beautifiil ever infolded the rays of divine goodness, 
than those which pour their blessings upon the monster 
•growths of nature and man in the valley of Manscoe's 
Creek) — Jarm, having neared the age of ten years, was 
leisurely sauntering amid the green grass and blossom- 
ing fields, and regaling his senses with the music of 
birds and insects, and the outspreading beauties and 
harmonies of nature, which ever enter a receptive 
spirit, and with "a still small voice," announce the 
presence of an unseen God — then, when alhwas quiet 
within, and all beauty and bliss and harmony witho:it. 


there arose from the opposite, bank a howl of agony 
which thrilled his soul, and forced him, as it were, 
from heaven to earth again. Screeches, and screams, 
and cries for compassion, followed the sounds of the 
unfeeling instrument as it fell from the hand of the 
murderer Betts, upon his unhappy slave. The charms 
of nature in a moment vanished, and the voice of God 
was drowned by the cries of misery. 

Jarm's compassionate soul comprehended the thing 
at once, and instead of fleeing with terror, as small 
boys of that age would, covered by the brush which 
formed a deep fringe on the bank of the Creek, he sped 
swift and noiselessly as possible, and sheltered by the 
outer verge of it, had a clear view of the infernal act 
on the opposite bank, which so rudely and suddenly 
changed a celestial picture into an image of hell. ^ 

Nothing could excuse the detail of a scene like this, 
which disgusts and crucifies good taste, and all refined 
and humane feeling, but the necessity of descending to 
the depths of this terrible system, to display its fre- 
quent and horrible monstrosities. It is to be borne 
in mind, that such scenes formed the life of Jarm in 
his boyhood, ere he was thrown into the crushing 
jaws of slavery. 

The distance from bank to bank across the river at 
this place was about four rods. The sky was unusually 
clear, and Jarm had a distinct view of the whole trans- 
action afier he arrived. The sufferer was a young 
man about twenty years of age, by the name of " Sam ^' 
— a good-feeling, kind-hearted fellow, who Jarm well 
knew, and who, a few weeks before, saved him (Jarm) 

46 J. W. LOOUfiN. 

from drowning in the jcreek when it was swelled by 
the rain. 

This poor fellow was stripped quite nakedj hooped, 
and lashed by cords to a barrel on the steep bank of 
the stream. His head almost, if not quite, touched 
the ground on one side, and his feet on the other — the 
fleshy part of his body being exposed above, covered 
with gore, while the blood dropped upon the barrel 
or ran down his back and legs to the ground* 

Whether the barrel was filled in whole or in part 
with liquor, Jarm of course could not know. The 
flesh of the poor wretch was quivering in the sun, and 
painting its pure rays red, while Sam was moaning 
and pleading for pity with a depth of feeling which 
Avould move any heart. 

Beside the barrel stood a man without a heart-^a 
stout, square-built, burly, bushy-headed fellow, of about 
forty years of age, whose face resembled an intoxicated 
fdry. He had on neither hat, coat, or vest, and his 
shirt, open at the collar, fallen loosely away, showed 
a broad, sun and whiskey-burnt chest, which seemed a 
fortress of strength. His sleeves were rolled up like 
a butcher, and his right hand clenched an instrument 
of torture, known nowhere under the sun but in the 
slave States, called a paddle^ which he fiercely flour- 
ished over the heads and faces of some half dozen 
negroes who stood trembling by. 

Such is a poor description of the murderer Betts, 
ftnd the wretched objects around him, when Jarm took 
his position in the bushes. The villain, as he brand» 
ished the bloody paddlo, filled the air with his curses, 

MtTftDER. 47 


A!id threatened the Blaves with the same and even a 
worse vengeance than he was inflicting on the fainting 

The instrument called "a paddle," was the only 
article of soathem manufacture that Jarm knew of-^ 
and its existence might have remained a secret to the 
rest of the world, had not he, and others like him, 
escaped to declare and describe it. It is a firm board, 
shaped like a huge Yankee pudding stick filled with 
small auger hofes, and of a heft to do the most execu- 
tion upon the flesh it bruises. It is the most savage 
and blood-letting instrument employed to torture the 
slave. Every blow, the shdrp wood on the circum* 
ference of the holes cuts into the flesh, and the pain 
and the blood follow, in proportion to the number of 
such holes and the force of the blows. 

The monster having finished his speech to the ne* 
groes, turned to glut his vengeance on poor Sam, with 
a rage and energy that seemed provoked by his cries, 
and the sight of his own barbarity. As he grasped 
the paddle and swung it from his shoulder to increase 
the force of his blow, Sam b^ged with all the strength 
of nature. The slaves turned their faces to the ground 
or covered them with their hands — and Betts, With all 
oath, brought the weapon down with his might-^blow 
after blow followed, and streams, and howls of agony, 
and cries for mercy, followed with them, 

Jarm, overcome with the misery of his friend and 
^the cruelty of his tormentor, hid his face on the ground 
and covered it with his Land?, and refused to look 
upon the scene. 

48 J. W. LOGUBK. 

Betts continned the blows imtil he was weary, and 
then ceased them to repeat his threats and curses to 
the negroes. 

Thus he alternated his violence upon the one, and 
threats and curses upon the other, until the voice of 
Sam growing hollow and faint, convinced the listener 
that nature was failing. The last sentence which he 
articulated was, " Lord I Lord 1" and he continued 
to utter it until utterance failed, and no noise broke 
the stillness around but the sound of the infernal 
weapon upon the insentient and motionless body. 
When the monster saw Sam ceased to speak or move, 
he also ceased his blows.- 

At this time, when all was silent, Jarm raised his 
head from the ground and saw Betts place his foot 
against the bleeding body, and with a savage curse 
and malignant force, set the barrel and body rolling 
together down the steep bank into the river. As they 
reached the water, he (Betts) turned to the negroes 
and said, fiercely : 

"There, you d — d dogs, go and bring him back 
again, and unbind him and let him go." 

Quick as lightning the compassionate fellows sprang 
to the water, unbound him, and laid him on the bank 
—but it was too late. Life ceased to animate the 
poor man — his soul was set free, and his mutilated 
body, already wrapped in its bloody shroud, was pre- 
pared for its funeral. 

The poor fellows looked meaningly at the brute 
Betts as he stood at the Creek washing the sweat from 


his brow and arms, and then, with sad ooontenanoes 
stood motionless around the corpse. 

"What are you doing there, you d — d villains,'' 
said Betts. 

" Sam be dead, massa," said one of the circle. 

" 111 bring him to life,", said Betts, and coming rap- 
idly up the bank, gave him a brutal kick upon his ribs. 
Not a muscle stirred — sensation was gone forever — 
his last breath was spent with his last prayer, and the 
life and the prayer together were already infolded in 
the infinite heart, to which, in the last extremity, the 
wronged and outraged never plead for protection and 
repose in vain. 

" Take the d — d dog and bury him," were the last 
words that Betts muttered, as he turned and walked 
heavily away. 

Thus closed the last scene of the tragedy, and Jarm, 
Saint with contending emotions, bent his way home- 
wards. Any more teachings on the subject of the 
slave's helplessness, and hard fate, were now super- 
fluous. Boy as he was, he comprehended all from 
Alpha to Omega. Any other lessons, he saw could 
only vary the manifestations of the diabolical princi- 
ple, which nulified every right, and exposed the slave to 
every outrage. His first lesson was the djdng deer — 
the last, the dying slave. He shuddered to think that 
by a change of masters he might be murdered as Sam 
was. His heart was tortured with the intensest hatred 
of slavery, and concern for himself, mother, brother 
and sisters. 

Now, for the first time, he revolved the possibility of 

50 J. W. LOGtEK. 

escape, and if an opportunity occurred, determined to 
improv t it at any hazard. 

Oil his return, his soul Was locked up to its own 
perceptions. He saw only the world within him, and 
had no eyes or ears for the world without. The 
flowers flung their fragrance on the breeiie as before— 
the birds sung as sweet — all nature was redolent with 
divine goodness when he returned, as when he went 
out ; but he heeded them not* This scene, cdnnected 
with corresponding reminiscences, filled him with new 
and harrowing thoughts and passions, which were 
regenerating him* Young as he was, it needed but 
that to stir a new life in him. From that moment he 
felt a flame enkindled which made him a new creature 
—a flame which all the demon fires of slavery could 
not countervail — a flame which, at the expiration of 
another ten years, forced him from his mother and 
kindred, bravely, to stand at the mouth of the infernal 
crater and throw his shackles in it. 

Of course, Jarm's verdict in the premises was quali- 
fied by what should be the conduct of white men in 
the case. He knew the Logue family well enough to 
know that they would revolt at this deed of nameless 
and murderous atrocity. He thought all white men 
must feel aa he did, and it remained to know that they 
would act also as he would act in the case. 

Jarm instantly informed Cherry of what he saw. 
Smitten with terror by the story, and by the danger 
to which she feared he would be exposed if he breathed 
It aloud, she hushed him to a whisper. She assured 
him the deed would be known through Bett's slaves, 


and charged him to say nothing about it lest he be 
involved as a spy. She said the absence of Sam in 
the neighborhood and on the plantation would confirm 
the report, and there would be abundant opportunity 
to know the effect of the murder upon the white peo- 
ple. In thus charging him, she was prompted more 
by an over anxiety for the safety of her boy, than by 
any real danger which she saw could result from his 
making the story public. 

Tnis tremulous caution, which was so common on her 
part, had a nervous effect upon Jarm. While it de- 
termined him to secrecy, it increased his sense of inse- 
curity, and deepned his hatred of the web in which he 
felt himself involved. Cherry, however, informed him 
he might set his mind at rest at once as to the effect 
of the disclosure. It would create a tempest of pas- 
sion soon to pass away, and the slaves would remain 
unprotected and Sam unavenged. 

As foretold by Cherry, so it came to pass. Before 
the sun" went down of the same day, the murder and 
all its particulars were known to every slave and 
every white person on the plantation. 

The secret was first communicated by one of Bett's 
men, to a slave girl belonging to the Logues, who was 
much attached to Sam, and who expected to be his 
wife. She declared it aloud, and sobbed in all the 
demonstration of grief. 

The family of Logues were stirred to madness by 
the hellish deed, and swore Betts should be lynched 
and driven from the neighborhood. They communi- 
cated the facts to tlie v/hitc people about, and a flame 

62 J. W, LOOUEN. 

blazed forth whicn threatened for a time to wipe the 
murderer from the earth. They did tiot expect, nor 
did they wish, the judicial tribunals to furnish a preci- 
dent of punishment for the murder of a slaye, which 
was impossible (by the express terms of the law,) if 
the murder occurred " by moderate chastisement" — ^nor 
could it be proved by colored witnesses. They preferred 
rather that he should be a victim to the lawless ven- 
geance which their chivalric notions allowed to tram- 
ple on the laws of the land. 

As Cherry predicted, the tempest of passion perished 
in its own eflfervescence, and in a little period Betts 
was as safe, and the negroes as unsafe, as ever. 


The appearance of Dave since his connection with 
the white woman and purchase of the paternal estate, 
was a great improvement upon his previous life. He 
was a drinker, to be sure, but more regular in his 
hours — ^more sober in his demeanor — more attentive 
to business than before. 

To the poor slave who is blind to everything not on 
the surface of affairs, the inference was quite natural 
that he was growing in the right direction. He had 


carried on the estate some three or four years, alone, 
with an attention to its interests which showed his 
mind active above the level of his past life. The 
labors of the plantation were conducted with more 
order, peace, and profit. The Logues always de- 
nounced the economy of pinching the stomachs of the 
laborers, and sufficiently provided them with coarse 
food and clothing. In fact, the slave began to value 
his breath— the only property he could enjoy — ^more 
than he had done. 

Strangers, too, some of them evidently of the better 
class, began to call on him, sometimes to leave papers, 
sometimes to chat on politics and business, and taste 
his hospitality ; while Jarm, then in his eleventh year, 
tended their horses with grass and grain. 

As these calls increased, Jarm thought he perceived 
they were not always agreeable to his master. He 
wore a frown sometimes when he saw them comiog, 
and there was an evident dash of servility in his face 
and manners after they arrived. His demeanor seemed 
sometimes strained and unnatural in their presence. 

On one occasion he was closeted a long time with 
one of these gentlemen, who, though a stranger to 
Jarm, seemed to be an acquaintance of Dave's. When 
their interview was concluded, they approached Jarm 
in company as he was holding the horse. The faces 
of both wore a jocular expression, which seemed to 
indicate anything but ill-will. But Jarm was some- 
what expert at reading countenances. Face expres- 
sions were the only letters he had ever set to learn. 

54 J. W. LOGUEN. 

He was quite.sure tUeir careless pleasantry was a cover 
to other and graver feelings. 

"This fellow will answer — I guess I will take him," 
said the man, as he came up to Jarm and put his 
hand on his head. 

The joke did not drive the smile from Dave's face, 
but it changed the color of it, and he quickly replied : 

" This is a bad business, anyhow, Joseph. I trust 
you w^ill consult my convenience. It will -be an ex- 
treme case that separates me and that fellow." 

The Sheriff— for such was Joseph — ^raising a search- 
ing eye from Jarm to Dave, broke into a laugh, and 
said : 

" A dash of the Logues — don't deny it, now. Ah, 
you have been a sad boy, Dave !" 

Dave was in no condition to relish a joke in that 
direction — ^his voice and expression sank together, 
and adroitly as possible he changed the subject. 

There are no such highways in that neighborhood 
as are used in the north. The path through the plan- 
tation was mainly used by travellers on horseback, 
and occasionally an ox cart picked its way along. 
Dave and his friend walked on foot, conversing as 
they went along — while Jarm led the horse a few 
paces behind them. 

" I tell you what, Joseph, I don't know but I made 
a blunder when I bought this property; we were 
reckless boys, and I don't know but I was most reck- 
less of the three ; we suffered the estate to be embar- 
rassed. I have a strong veneration for it — ^in it are 
ihe bones of my father — ^my old mother has lived on 


it from the day she married bim — all tlie negroes were 
derived from him, except the mother of the-boy behind 
us and her children. I bought it in to save it, and I 
mean to save it. I have been very attentive to busi- 
ness for some time — the plantation has never yielded 
•half so much as it does now, nor looked as well. I 
have given up every luxury except an occasional glass 
with a friend — ^by heaven I won't give up that. I 
have done well for the last three years — ^the negroes 
have done well — ^their hearts are grown to the soil and 
to each other — ^we are a happy family without these 
accursed debts, which are killing me. If my creditors 
will indulge me another crop, I can twist out of this 
infernal case. It will be mighty hard for me to give 
up any of these boys — ^it will break their hearts, I 
know, and will almost break mine — ^but some of them 
must go. Humanity to the rest demands it — *the 
greatest good to the greatest number,' you know, is 
our democratic doctrine." 

" If it was expedient that one man should die to 
save a nation, I suppose you think it ia expedient that 
some of your slaves be sold to save the rest — ^that is 
your argument, is it not?" 
"AU fudge!" 

" No fudge about it. How am I to g^t along if I 
don't part with some of my slaves ?" 

" And if you could get along by doing so, it does 
not follow it would be right. Nor does it follow if 
you sell some of them that you will thereby save the , 
rest — or that you or they will be the better off. That 

56 , J. W. LOGUKN. 

was the argument of Caiphas, a Jewish old fogy and 
incorrigible hypocrite. The Jews adopted his coun- 
Bel and killed Jesus in obedience to your infernal 
doctrine, Hhe greatest, good to the greatest number.* 
But did they thereby secure good in his sense of the 
words 2 No. I tell you good can only come from 
doing good — ^and we can never receive good unless 
we do right. Come, I am going to preach. No good 
can come from wrong. Good to one is good to all — 
and evil to one is evil to all. Caiphas lied when he 
said that. He was blind to everything but — self. He 
gave up his church and country to be murdered when 
he gave up Jesus to be murdered. It needed just 
that to seal their doom. Jerusalem, which symboli- 
zes the Church — and the Temple, which symbolizes 
the Lord himself, fell by that sin from among them. 
The foundations of the former were plowed up, and 
not one stone, that is, ^ not one truth, remained upon 
another, after they had- crucified Jesus. Falsehood 
was ultimated and triumphed in the decapitation of 
the Lord of the Church." 

" Always a preaching — ^but how do you niake out 
that the Jewish Church fell with the Jewish State ? 
There is scarce a large citj in the world without one 
or more synagogues in it — ^you are out there." 

" No church can survive its Lord — ^its form may 
remain, as the Christian church does now, like the 
broken shell when the chick has flown. When it ex- 
communicated the Lord, its life went with him, of 
. course. The old church committed suicide to let in a 
new one. Fi I Dave-— don't believe these preaching, 


praying, and chaqting assembles in synagogues and 
meeting houses, are, of course, genuine churches. They 
may be forms without life — mere husks and shells — mere 
human organizations, madQ by men for men — not by God 
for God. There is but one church and that is * the 
Lainb's wife' — in other words, the Lord's wife — the 
Lord has not got two wives. He maintains no Ha- 
rem. He acknowledges no Presbyterian wife, nor 
Methodist wife, nor Baptist wife, nor the thousand 
and one thiugs that claim him as husband. They who 
live to do good to others, be they Christian or heathen, 
" lean on his bosom" and are his wife, " and he is their 

" Do you mean to say that the Church instituted by 
tiie Lord Jesus Christ can lose its life, and be as a 
husk or shell, as the Jewish Church is?" 

"Indeed I do. When it becomes as the Jewish 
Church was, its fate must be the same, by the laws of 
order. The Apostolic Church was no more the Lord's 
Church, than was the Adamic, Noatic, and Israelitish 
churches, before them — and they successively performed 
their uses and perished. When a church ceases to 
hoAor its Lord by a life devoted to his uses — when it 
is a coveriug for selfish and worldly aims, it has like 
the Jewish Church excommunicated its Lord — ^it has 
conspired with Judas and sold him — it has, in other 
words, lost its life. It may preserve truths — ^but they 
will be without good — they will be truths in petrified 
forms after life is gone — their light will be the light 
of winter shimmering in the face of death. Of what 

68 J W. LOGUBN. 


use is lig^J without heat — truth .without good — or 
what is the same Faith without Charity ?" 

" Now, Joseph, I am no Christian, and know little 
of Divinity — ^but you surprise me — do you mean to 
say that Christianity is a failure, and that the Lord 
has no Church in the worid ?" 

No, no. No church ever was a failure. AH were 
adapted to the age they were instituted. They per- 
formed their uses and perished — they are the ages or 
dispensations that have come and gone." 

" I am not satisfied — ^I want one reason why I am 
to believe that the first Christian Church, as you call 
it, has perished T 

" Well — I will try to give one. Christ founded his 
Church on Peter, on a Rock, on Truth — ^in other words, 
on Faith. After Christ arose from the grave, he had 
a talk with Peter— the Rock, the Truth— Faith— for 
in the language of the ancients the former words mean 
Faith. In that talk he described the doom of his 
Church in the following striking prophesy : " When 
thou wast young thou girdest thyself and walkest 
whither thou wouldst — ^but when thou shalt be old, 
thou shalt stretch forth thy hands and another shall 
gird thee and carry thee whither thou wouldst not — ^ 

" But that was said to and of Peter.'' 

" Don't interrupt me — ^have I not just said, that in 
the correspondential language of our Lord, Peter means 
Faith? Ifs literal, is Rock or SUme, and in such 
language, they bolt mean Truth or Faith. Christ did 
not establish his Church on Peter as a man. He was 
a very unreliable man. In ancient times things had 


tbeir names from their qnaKties — ^Bocks and Stones 
represented Truths — and Peter is another name for 
Bock or Stone, the Divine meaning of which is Truth 
or Faith — and the Bible is to be read in its Divine or 
spiritual meaning. The things of nature represent 
God^s thoughts, and were clearly seen and read by 
unfallen men. And because Peter or Stone is a Divine 
representation of Truth or Faith, therefore it is said 
to be the head of the comer. Christ used the word 
in the Divine sense, as it was used before letters were 

" When he spoke of Peter then, he spoke of a New 
Church he come to establish — ^was that it?'' 

"Yes. It was a prophecy. *When thou wast 
young,' means when the church is young — * thou girdest 
thyself,' means, it thought for itself or had a mind of its 
own — * walking whither thou wouldst,' means that such 
church was free to obey God according to its own 
mind and will — ^ when thou shalt be old,' means when 
the church is decaying — * thou shalt stretch forth thy 
hands and another sKall gird thee,' means that in its 
decline it will give its power and honor to another 
(for hands mean power) — to the Pope, to the Bishop, 
the Presbyter, the Council, the Synod, &c. — that these 
shall dictate its doctrines and creeds — 'lead thee 
whither thou wouldst not,' means that the Church will 
become a servile, fashionable thing, without under- 
standing or will of its own. Now, when Peter, or 
Truth, or Faith, has given its understanding and will 
to another — don't you see it can't obey the command 

60 J- W. LOQUEN. 

•follow thou me' — that faith is gone, and the churdh 
is defunct, when it follows another ?" 

" But Christ said that to signify what death Peter 
should die." 

" So he did. But natural death is spoken of only 
because it corresponds to spiritual death, just as stones 
correspond to truth. The former is the external and 
natural, the other the internal and Divine sense." 

"Is that the way you read the Bible? I have 
always understood the Bible as it reads, and have 
never read it much. Then you will have it, God 
did not mean that Adam should die on the day he eat 
the apple?" 

" No— indeed, — ^he did eat the forbidden fruit, but 
did he die a natural death on the day he eat it ? Not 
he. God set him to tilling the ground, — sufficient 
evidence tlwi, to satisfy everybody that God intended 
a different sort of death. He lost the Divine life and 
image — that was death enough. Natural death is 
purely normal ; our natural bodies are no part of us. 
The spiritual body is the manj and it takes on this 
body of flesh, and puts it off like a worn-out garment 
— and then lives on, atid on, on forever in a higher 
sphere of existence. To suppose that God declared 
that Adam should die a natural death on the day he 
ate the fruit,^is to suppose, not that the serpent or 
devil, but that God was the liar. Not so. God was 
true. Adam lived naturally, but not spiritually." 

"Do you suppose mother Eve was seduced by a 
" There it is again. If we take tne natural sense of 


tiie letter to be the Diyine meaning, our (Jod will be 
little better than the gods of the heathen. Adam and 
Eve, the man and the woman, represent the bride and 
the bridegroom, the lamb and the lamb's wife — ^the 
church, in the Divine sense. The serpent is a hiero- 
glyph, representing the sensual principle in man ruling 
his aflfections — ^as woman does the Church itself under 
the dominion of the higher principles of his nature. 
So the serpent was understood by the ancients, and so* 
figured on the pyramids and rocks, the books of the 
ancients. The serpent crawls upon his belly, and 
cannot raise its head to see or assail the higher prin- 
ciples of man's nature. It aims only at the heel, the 
lowest natural principle — ^it can't reach higher. But, 
be it remembered, the sensual principle is a Divine 
element in God's nature as well as in man's, for man 
is an image of God — and being so, it is an essential 
element in man. In its place, under the dominion of 
the imderstanding and wUL the higher principles of 
the human soul, it is absolutely necessary for human 
uses. Separate from those principles, it becomes an 
enemy, a serpent. It is beautifully represented by the 
rod of Moses. In its proper 'place, in his hands and 
power, it is a staff to help him in the Divine walk or 
life — ^but released from his control, it is a snake, whose 
bite is death, and that is what it means. The Woman, 
that is the men, and women of the church called Adam, 
gave themselves to the dominion of the sensual princi- 
ple, and of course separated from higher and Divine 
principles, «Jid sought light and wisdom through the 
senses. They threw the rod of Oiod upon the ground, 

62 J. W. LOGUEN. 

and of oonrse carae under the dominion of fhe serpent 
or sensual principle, and perished." 

" But how will this carry out ? If Petw's name had 
such significance, what is the meaning of John ? His 
name, too, is used in this connection. Has that an 
internal meaning, too ?" 

"0 yes — John, as represented by the ancients, 
means *the Life of Charity/ or love true to its impulses, 
and never swerving from its duties. John never for- 
sook the Lord of the Church, though Peter, and all the 
Apostles, who represent all the other qualities of 
the Lord and of the Church, forsook him. Chariiy is 
ever faithful, leaning on the Lord's breast. What a 
• beautiful emblem of Charity that ! John, or Efeve, 
followed the Lord into the High Priest's Palace, when 
every other disciple fled, and Peter, or Paith^ stood at 
the door without and denied the Lord three times. 
John stood at the Cross and saw his Lord die, and 
received his lj«t words,/ Woman, (or church) behold 
thy son' — then to John (^r charity) he said, * Son, be- 
hold thy mother/ Charity is bom of the<5hurch (or 
heaven) as its mother — and now mark 'from that hour 
that disciple (Charity) 'took her (the Church) to his 
own bosom and preserved her,' to use the Lord's ex- 
pression, * until I come,' that is until he came in the 
spirit to form a New Church. Christ came only to 
form a new church. If you want to find the church, 
look for John, not Peter." 

" Well, you may be right in all this business, Joseph 
— ^but what do you moon by it ? Do you mean I am 


not to sell some of these slaves to save me from bank- 

" I am not yoor jndge, Dave. You will judge your 
own case; as I shall mine. That is the order of 
Heaven. But mind you> 'with what Judgment ye 
judge, ye shall be judged.' If you seek the good of - 
others, then ye will have good for the deed — ^but if 
ye seek your own good, disregarding the good of 
others, then will ye have evil. I shall take your re- 
ceipt for this slave, but I will never sell him. I am 
sicK of my oflSce and shall resign it. I don't like it, 
any way. What I cannot do for myself, I will not 
do for the state." 

They had now come in sight of the slaves at their 
work. Joseph endorsed one of them on his execution 
against Dave and took his receipt for his delivery at 
a future day, and they separated. The slaves were 
aa ignorant of it, as if they had been hogs or horses. 


The course of events soon satisfied David Lougue 
liiat he could not relieve his estate from the pressure 
of the claims upon it. His creditors had the fullest 
confidence in his industry, honor and intents, and 
would gladly indulge him a reasonable length, but 
some of them feared that others would press their 
claims for the sake of precedence. They could not 

64 J. W. LOGUEN. 

trust each other. Suits were, therefore^ commenced 
to obtain a priority of lien, and thereby all his cred- 
itors were about to be let upon him. He was likely 
to be ground to powder by the mercUess principle 
that the law favors the vigilant and not the slothful 
creditor. His real estate' was considerably encum- 
bered, and such was the pressure of his creditors 
that he foresaw he must sell his slaves, as well as his 
plantation, to escape hopeless bankruptcy. He had 
iDtended to keep the mother of Jarmain and her 
children, but now he saw he could not. He had pro^ 
mised Cherry and Jarm that he would give Jarm his 
freedom — ^nor could he do this and be solvent 

It became now inconvenient to redeem his promi- 
ses, and they were of no avail opposed to his conve- 
nience. Being chattels, Henry and Cherry and Jarm 
could not be parties to contracts. A deed of free- 
dom supposes all the rights of the slave vested in the 
master, and he gives those rights as by a new creation. 

When Dave saw the storm gathering, and clothing 
the thunderbolt over the heads of his skves in its 
black folds, he was deeply grieved ; but not so much 
grieved that he was willing to adopt the only expedi- 
ent that would avert it. His interest overbalanced 
his sympathies and good intents. He dreaded hope- 
less bankruptcy more than that.thunderbolt and the 
unutterable woes its fall would produce. It would be 
unjust to say his feelings were not pained by a strug- 
gle between pride and poverty. They were deeply 
pained ; but such was the force of pride and perver- 
sity of education, that they overcame his justice and 


instincts, and compelled a determination to convert 
his slaves, and even his own flesh and blood, into 
money to pay his debts. 

All his plans and purposes and promises of good 
to Jarm and his deeply- wronged mother, were nulli- 
fied by the selfishness that nourished his chivalry. 
He might have taken them out of this datrk land into 
a free State and given them freedom — or have put 
all his slaves in charge of the British King in Canada, 
and plead the claims of justice and humanity against 
his creditors in justification of the act; but in such 
case he would also be obliged to take up his abode at 
the north, as he supposed, in naked povearty. 

In such circumstances, Dave determined to sell all 
his slaves the first opportunity, and to tiie best advan- 

In the meantime, the poor negroes were cheerful at 
their labors, not dreaming of an event that was soon 
to separate them forever, and scatter them through 
the southern country. The terrible secret was care- 
fully kept •in the bosom of their master. He was 
cautious that not even a suspicion of their fate should 
be awakened until he had sold them, and they were 
fairly in the power of their purchasers. 

But, notwithstanding this determination, he medita- 
ted the possibility of so providing for Cherry and her 
children, that their fate should be as endurable as pos- 
sible, and never relinquished the hope, that, by some 
means, at some time, he could secure the freedom of 
Jarm. He had already accepted a proposition for the 
sale of his plantation, on condition he did not refuse 



it in a limited time, whicB refusal depended upon his 
disposal of his slaves to his liking in that time. Slave 
traders often drove through his plantation, but it re- 
quired time to find a purchaser for so large a stock. 

It was in the fall months, after the crops were har- 
vested, and the slaves were looking forward to the 
leisure and pleasure of the holidays, and a compara- 
tively easy winter life, that such an opportunity oc- 

Quite late in the season, his affairs called him to 
Nashville, where he found a trader willing to return 
and spend a day with him on the plantation, and make 
him an offer for all his slaves. He was to be at 
Dave's in the character of a visitor and acquaintance, 
and inform himself of the quality of the chattels with- 
•out creating a suspicion of his intent. 

On the evening of the same day, Dave and his vis- 
itor concluded their contract' for the sale of the entire 
stock of slaves, not excepting Jarm. He learned 
that the purchaser, on his way to Alabama, would pass 
the residence of Manasseth Logue, in the southern 
portion of Tennessee ; and it was a condition of the 
bargain 'that he should sell the Logue family to Ma- 
nasseth, in case he, Manasseth, would pay the sum at 
which .they were valued in the Bill of Sale. 

At the time the contract was closed, Henry had just 
arrived, as usual, to indulge a few moments of com- 
fort with Cherry and her boy, and the whole circle of 
slaves were seated around their cabins, in the same 
social and happy contentment they enjoyed since Dave 
was the separate owner of the estate ; little suspecting 


this was the last time they would be thus assembled, 
and that the shades of the evening were shutting from 
their eyes the scene of their comforts and labors for- 
ever. To them, a slave trader was an object of su- 
preme dread ; and the caravans of misery which such 
traders drove by their poor homes, were the most 
shocking of all scenes. Their course was always to- 
wards the deadly sugar and cotton fields. The sad 
and moaning coffles stirred the depths of their souls, 
and discovered the last soundings of human misery. 
With the planters interest as well as sympathy usu- 
ally combined to keep families together ; but the poor 
negroes knew, as well as others, that these trading 
vagabonds were ruled by interest only ; and that they 
separated families with as little feeling as professional 
cattle traders separate other animals. By a sale to ' 
these soulless men, they knew they were literally 
thrown into the jaws of avarice. 

In the dead of night, when they were locked in 
sleep, the negro quarters were surrounded by stout 
men, armed with revolvers and shackles. The strong- 
est and bravest of the negroes were manacled in their 
slimibers — and because of the prospect of frantic agony, 
and desperate bravery, and strength of Cherry, they 
put the irons on her also, as the best means of mana- 
ging her. The other wcMnen and children were easily 

The victims, taken imawares, were in the power of 
their captors. Cherry waked from her slumbers, her 
infant sleeping at her side. Her imprisoned limbs 
revculed her helplessness, and a consciousness of the 

68 J. W. LOGUEN. 

cause sent a chilling horror through every avenue of 
feeling. Her first utterance was a shriek, responsive 
of the deep agony of her soul. For a moment, her 
spirit was swathed with black despair, and then she 
raved with the fury of an imprisoned tigress. She 
called for Dave and she called for Henry ^ and no voice 
responded to her call but the voices of savage wretches 
who stood over her and the rest, armed with whips 
and pistols. 

She was told that Dave had, that night, started on 
a journey — ^that she no longer belonged to him — that 
she was the property of the ferocious-looking man 
who stood in the centre of this group, of sorrow, 
clenching a whip in one hand and a pistol in the 
other — ^that Henry would meet her on the road — ^that 
she must "shut up at once, and take her babe and 
come along," — that she would meet Dave at Manas- 
seth Logue's, in southern Tennessee, where he resided. 
The speaker said Manasseth would take her and the 
children off their hands. 

This was quite possible, for he (Dave) had already 
started on his journey to see Manasseth, to prepare 
him to redeem this wretched family, who were mostly 
his own flesh and blood, in pursuance of the arrange- 
ment with the purchaser. The fact, like the He in 
regard to Henry, was repeated to' the miserable woman 
only to pacify her. The cowskin liad failed to an- 
swer the purpose. Her body^ insensible to assaults, 
was already seamed \nth blooily stripes, and the lie 
and the truth, so far as there was truth, was adopted 


in lieu of the lash for the sake of convenience, not 

It is left to the imagination of the reader to finish 
this night scene, and fill up the picture of horrors 
which drew their dense folds, blacker than the night,, 
al.»out the minds of these miserable chattels. They 
were about twelve in nimiber ; and suffice it to say, 
that ere the signs of morning light appeared, the coffle, 
consisting of the men and women who it was thought 
best to secure, with the exception of Cherry, were 
chained together and to the wagon, as usual in such 
cases, and ready to start on their dreary journey. 
Cherry was fettered with irons which were fastened 
with a lock, and placed, with the children, in a cov- 
ered wagon, which occupied the van of the procession. 

About the time the sun began to change the color 
of the eastern horizon, the procession started. The 
purchaser and his adjutants, having refreshed with 
bacon and whiskey, and distributed coarse eatables to 
the captives, armed with whips and pistols, mounted, 
one of them the wagon which was drawn by four 
horses, and the others, each a horse, in front and flank 
and rear of the prisoners, and started on. The crack 
of the driver's whip over the backs of the horses 
gave the first notice, and a like crack over the heads 
of the slaves, gave an irregular start to the dark and 
wretched coffle in the rear. 

It seemed as if some of them were fainting with 
sorrow, and scarce able to march in order. But the 
noise of the terrible lash awakened their activities, 
and brought them into an even step with the dragoons 

70 J. W. LOGUEN. 

by their side* The thought that they were leaAang 
the spot, which, in spite of its sorrows and trials, was 
dear to them, without being able to see it— and that 
they were parting forever from acquaintances and re- 
lations in the neighborhood, under circumstances the 
most awftil to their conceptions — ^for a country and 
condition which they knew not of, and to be scattered 
they knew not where, among cruel strangers who had 
even'le^s sympathy for the slave than the man who 
sold them, threw them into paroxysms of grief. Many 
of them mourned aloud, and their sighs and sobs, 
mingling with infant's screams, the crack of whips, 
and the curses of the drivers', made as discordant and 
infernal sounds as ever shocked the ear of night. 

The sky just began to grow gray when the process 
sion started. The wagon was closely covered with 
canvas, which shut out every appearance of light, and 
the blackness within was made more gloomy and sad 
by the scraping and rustling of the brush against the 
sides of the wagon, as it picked its way along the 
narrow path in the forest. Every spot was familiar 
to Cherry for miles around, and these sounds of fami- 
liar and stationary objects in contact with her rolling 
prison, seemed like the voices of the spirits of Mansoe's 
Creek speaking an everlasting farewelh The bottom 
of the wagon -was covered with clean straw, just har- 
vested and threshed by the hands of the prisoners, 
and she could have been comfortable, if it was possi- 
ble for her body to rest when the miseries of hell were 
let loose upon her soul. She knew these slave dealer^ 
were the most truthless men, and placed no confidence 


in them. Slie never expected to see Henry or Dave 
again in tte world. All thought was drowned in a 
phrenzy of despair. Agony had taken full possession 
of her spirit, and she groaned aloud. On the very 
brink of sanity she was startled by a gentle whisper 
in her ear, which, as by enchantment, laid the surges 
of her soul. 

"Where is Ohio, mother?'^ 

Jarm, not comprehending the circimistaiices of his 
condition as did Cherry, but yet sufficiently compre- 
hending it to know it was insufferably bad, felt most 
l^eenly her sorrows — -he had quieted the babe to sleep 
in his arms, and laid it with the other children who 
were asleep by his side* Thus relieved of his charge, 
and full of a sense of his incomprehensible dangers, 
he revolved the possibility of escape from them. ' fle 
called to mind the fact, often told him by his mother, 
that, when a little child, younger than himself, she 
was taken by force from a free land dalled Ohio, and 
left in slavery with the white Logues. Intensely 
moved by her present sufferings, he impulsively 
breathed in her ear the above startling question. 
The flood immediately passed off from her spirit and 
Bhe was herself again. She paused a breath or two 
and asked- — 

"Is it you, Jarm?" 

"Yes, mother." 

"Did you ask me where is Ohio?" 

"You told me you were free in Ohio, and that you 
• were stolen from there when a little girl and made a 
slave. I want to know where Ohio is." 

72 J. W. liOQUEN. 

"Why do you want to know where Ohio is ?" 

"Because, I hoped we were moving that way — ^and 
may be we can get away from these wicked people 
and go to Ohio and be free." 

"Hush!" said Cherry, "we can never get away 
from these people. Besides, I don't know which is 
the way to Ohio. I am very sure we are not going 
that way. The slave traders always drive their coffles 
toward the land of slaves, never to. the land of free- 
men. These bad men intend to sell us at the far 
south, and I fear they will sell you from me. They 
will sell us all apart, so that we shall never see each 
other again, if they can make more money by our 

The conversation continued for some time in this 
manner, Jarm suggesting the possibility of escape, and 
his mother resisting it, until sleep overcame the boy 
and laid him beside the little ones, and Cherry was 
left to her chains and reflections. 

When Jarm awoke, the golden light of an autumn 
sun poured through the mouth and crevices of his 
prison, and showed him a scene that moved him to 
tears. His mother, in her fetters, was feeding his 
little half brother, the son of Henry, from her bosom, 
and the other women and children were either crying 
or deeply sad ; but his mother, the saddest of them 
all, resembled the image of disappointment and misery. 
At such a sight, Jami could not resist the sympathy 
which burst the fountain within him, and vented itself 
in sobs and tears. It was broad day, and the sound 
of merry voices in ,the streets, and of birds in the 


trees, speaking the mercy and goodness of God to all 
outside tte hell in which he was caged, communicated 
to his inmost soul the certainty that Nature, and the 
God of Nature, were outraged in the persons of the 

It was now the turn of the mother to comfort her 
son, and pacify her little ones. The sweet office of 
affection relieved her own suffering spirit. Jarm's 
fountain of tears was soon closed, and he and his 
mother lapsed into a state of rational sadness, which 
seemed to say, " We will make the best of it." 

The captain of this band of robbers took his coffle 
to a sort of slave pen or tavern, near Nashville, where 
he refreshed his company and fed his victims; and 
from thence made his way again over the wretched 
roads and through the uncultivated scenery, which is 
the everlasting inheritance of the land of slaves. 
Days and nights the caravan pursued its monotonous 
course until it reached the borders of Alabama. It 
would, be useless to detail the incidents of the road, 
nothing having occurred to vary the usual character 
of the journey. The older slaves were habituated to 
their imprisonment and severe exercise under the lash 
of the driver, and had looked their wrongs and pros- 
pects so long in the face, that they were drilled into a 
state of sad contentment;, whilst the younger ones, 
let loose to play among the beasts which held their 
fathers and their mothers, ignorant of their doom, 
were pleased with the journey. 

Jarm, now grown to a stout boy, was the pet of 
these savage men ; and, though he never forgot his 

74 jr. w. Loaufijr. 

Wrongs, lie put on a oheerfdl face, and was rewarded 
by fevors and privileges beyond his companions. He 
had just begun to learn to ride and manage a horse, 
and was clothed only with a single coarse shirt. To 
relieve and please him, they occasionally put him 
astride the leader, where, whip in ,hand,- his bushy 
head exposed to the sUn, and his fat legs and unshod 
feet clinging to the horse's ribs, he whistled his time 
away. Sometimes, to give him company and content- 
Inent, and to gratify Cherry, they placed behind hitn 
his brother, a chubby little fellow, who kept his 
place only by clasping his tender arms as firmly as 
he could to Jarm's back< 

These human cattle drivers, as well as other cattle 
drivers, understand full well that it is better to amuse 
and coax and flatter their chattels, iJian cross their 
tempers and passions by imnecessary violence* Thus 
it is, that what seem to their victims as favors, are 
often means of economy and expedition, rather than a 
manifestation of humane feeling. 

It should not be inferred, though, that mild expe- 
dients are the only ones adopted to hasten along these 
poor people. The driver's whip, followed by the 
groans of the sufferer, occasionally started the rabbit 
and the partridge from the brambles, and announced 
to the weary ones, that, whatever the inconvenience, 
their steps must respond to the will of their drivers. 
Expedients, which we need not name, were adopted 
to strengthen and cheer their languid spirit?, in aid 
of their bodies* But now and then, one, less able or 
fortunate than the rest, from foot-soreness or weak- 


iiess, sank beyond the power of the lash, and was 
taken into the wagon as the only means of getting 
him or her along. 

It need not be stated that such a condition as this 
slave coffle, which has its likeness in aU the roads of 
the south, dispenses, by necessity, with all the decen- 
cies and moralities which men and women, even in a 
state of savage j&eedom, instinctively preserve. The 
imagination, for decency's sake, must fill up the pic- 
ture, if the true idea of the horrible- exhibition is 
obtained. Suffice it to sayj that in this way, this 
wretched coffle dragged its length along, until it arri- 
ved at the Little Tombigbee, on the northern borders 
of Alabama. 

The slaves were encouraged to more than usual 
speed drying the day on which they arrived at this 
place, for the reason, that they had been promised a 
respite of rest and refreshment at this spot Cherry 
had been particularly told that there she would be 
met by her old master and her husband, and that she 
and all her children would be left with them. As we 
have before said, her experience taught her that a 
slaveholder's word, and more especially a negro tra- 
der's word to a slave, under the circumstances she 
and her children were placed, was worth nothing; nev- 
ertheless, she knew their pretence was possible, and 
the' hope that it might be true, was some relief to her 
torttired spirit. 

It was about an hour before sunset that the cofflo 
arrived at the Little ^Tombigbee, and stretched its 
weary length under the shade upon its banks. The 

76 J. w. Looui^y. 

owner, some time before the arrival, had parted from 
it, and hurried his horse toward three log buildings, 
which nestled like Indian wigwams in a half culti* 
vated forest, half a mile distant from the company. 
Cherry seated herself on the banks of the stream, 
with Henry's babe in her arms, her children by her 
side, and waited with keen anxiety the fiilflUment of 
the promise the robbers so often made her, that she 
would there meet Henry and Dave, and that she and 
her diildren and Henry were to remain there together. 

It was not long before she saw three men, in the 
direction of the three log houses, approaching on 
horseback, and behind them, a wagon, with two 
horses, driven by a colored man. The two former she 
recognized as the Captain of the band and Manasseth 
Logue. This was the first actual evidence that the 
affirmations of the barbarian might be true. She 
hugged her babe to her bosom with convulsive trans- 
port, thinking that, though Dave was not along, Henry 
was actually approaching with the wagon to take her 
and her children to their quarters. How sad was her 
disappointment, as the wagon neared her, to see that 
it was another man, and not Henry, that was driving 
4ihe horses. Still she hoped. Manasseth and the 
captain rode near where Cherry sat with the children, 
and the latter, pointing to the dark circle, said, 
"There they are; Cherry, Jarm and the others des- 
cribed in the Bill of Sale." 

Cherry, slave fashion, dared not raise her head, but 
sat looking humbly, sadly, but hopefully, at her image 
in the water, and seeing only Henry in it, but had not 


courage to ask the question, the answer to wMcli 
woxild relieve her aching heart, to wit, as to the 
whereabouts of her husbandi This, she concluded, 
would be too great presumption, and might lead to 
bad results. She, therefore, said nothing, but hoped 

" Why, how these children have grown," said Man- 
asseth. "This boy," said he, pointing to Jarm, "will 
make a profitable servant, if he is not spoiled. Come, 
Cherry, get up into the wagon with the children, and 
Jack will show you to the quarters." 

When the wagon had gone out of the hearing of 
the white men, she enquired of Jack for David Logue 
and Henry, explaining to him that the former was her 
old master, and that the latter was her husband. 

Jack told her that David Logue had, that morning, 
started on his return journey to Mansoe's Creek, and 
that nd such man as Henry was now, or ever was, on 
the estate to his knowledge. 

It was now clear to Cherry, that that portion of the 
promise regarding Henry was made for the occasion ; 
and she vented her disappointment in loud expres- 
sions of grief and indignation. Now she felt that the 
separation between Henry and her and their child 
was eternal — ^the last hope vanished, and she settled 
down in sullen despair. 

Cherry and the little ones were soon deposited at 
the negro house, which was one of the three buildings 
spoken of A few rods from it, in diBFerent directions, 
was a small smutty distillery, and the family mansion 

78 J. w. LoauEN. 

of her new master — all which, as has been said. be- 
fore, were log houses, and the Only buildings in sight. 

It was now dark, aod Cherry, weary with grief, 
labor and disappointment, cast herself and babe on 
her bed of straw, and, notwithstanding the shock she 
received the evening previous, for the first time for 
manjT days had a night of repose. The healing an- 
gels closed her senses in absolute oblivion — " raised 
from her brain the rooted sorrow, and cleansed her 
bosom of the perilous stuff that weighs upon the 
heart." The history of her relations to Manscoe's 
Creek was all told, and she was now. to enter upon a 
new chapter of life. 

When she awoke in the morning, it was with a new 
spirit — ^bent, but not broken. Tlie iikstructions and 
endurances of the past, strengthened and tempered it 
to meet the conflicts before her with greater skill, 
prudence and courage. 


It was said at the conclusion of the lost chapter, 
that the sale and abandonment of the colored Logues 
by David Logue concluded an important epoch in thdr 
lives. The two families parted to encounter temp- 
tations and conflicts in different directions. But the 


lemptations and conflicts of the colored Logues were 
an accumulation of wrongs, wbicli did • not break 
them down, but instructed and strengthened them 
rather, for others to come. Not so with poor Dave. 
He had unwittingly castaway the only anchor which, 
hitherto, kept hia barque right side up amid life's 
waves. Had he not yielded his natural kindness of 
heart to false pride, and a perverted pubhc opinion, 
instead of the victim of poverty and low indiJgence 
which he afterwards became, he might have risen 
as his son J. W. Loguen rose, a conqueror on the 
waves of life, and defied its storms. The anxiety 
to save his slaves, especially Cherry and her children, 
had, for years, held him, in a measure, obedient to 
the duties of life. In separating fix)m them, he cut 
with his own hand, the cable that preserved him, 
and without an anchor was driven by the winds, and 
shortly sank into the gulph he labored to avoid 
— and there remains, without the hope, and probably 
without the wish to escape. 

The fate of this generous, chivalric, and noble na- 
tured man, the only saving clause in the history of 
the white Logues, has a counterpart in thousands who 
die to all good, like the mercies of heaven in the soil 
blighted- with the crimes and cruelties of slavery. 

Poor Dave had not willingly parted with Cherry 
and her children, and therefore the memory of the 
act remained to dog his footsteps, and torture his 
brain like "a rooted sorrow." Though he partnered 
with his brothers Camcs and Manasseth in the crime 
that kidnapped her when a little child, he remember- 

80 J. W. LOGUEK. 

ed with keen remorse, that, with one exception, he 
was the father of the hale and lovely children by her 
side, and that he was in fact responsible for the 
wrongs and miseries each and all of them had suffer- 
ered hitherto, as well as those they might thereafter 
suffer. The excepted link in this circle of wronged 
ones was the child of Henry. His memory, too, 
which would awaken delight in an angel, had cling- 
ing to it a barbed curse. The cherub face a.nd inno- 
cent smiles of the boy, often crept into David's mind's 
eye in connection with the compact he made with 
Henry at his nuptials, as if they were the living seal 
of his perjury and dishonor. 

As before said, after his bargain for the sale of his 
slaves was perfected, David left Manscoe's Creek for 
Southern Tennessee. He started in haste, and in the 
night, that his eyes might not witness the misery he 
had produced, and hastened to Manasseth to arrange 
with him a plan for the redemption of Cherry and 
her children. Manasseth and his wife had become 
brutes, and hke other brutes, their minds and hearts 
were unadapted to the mercies and business of life. 
David Logue knew ftill well that, without the aid of 
his genius and industry, his kind intents to prevent 
Cherry and her children being driven to Alabama, 
could not be executed. And not until the morning 
of their arrival at the Tombigbee had the plan been 
completed. To avoid again the sight of Cherry, 
Jarm, and the rest, on their arrival, and to hasten to 
the relief of his affairs at home, which actually and 


strongly demanded his instant attention, he started 
without delay to Manscoe's Creek. 

He started on horse back of course, the only mode 
of travelling in those days. Except in the immedi- 
ate neighborhood of Columbia and Nashville, his 
journey was through a new country, and such a thing 
as a pleasure carriage or wagon had never been seen 
there. His way, maLoly, was through gigantic for- 
ests — occasionally broken by fields of girdled trees, 
and sometimes by lots partially cleared of large lim- 
ber, where the sparse settlers, with their negroes, had 
bogun to grow com and tobacco. 

Like the early settlers of N. York and Ohio, the 
early settlers of Tennessee did not, as a general thing, 
clear off the heavy timber and fence their lots before 
they commenced cropping. More like the aboirgi- 
nes, the negroes girdled the large trees, and cleared 
off the imderbruEh, leaving the large trees to die, and 
then planted their seed. The trees thus girdled were 
lefl to rot in their natural position, until blown down 
by the winds, and then they were not cut by the axe, 
but burned into sections convenient for logging, and 
consumed.* If the wiad was high, the negroes 
were carefdl of fialling trees and limbs, which oc- 
casionally prostrated the com or other crops. It 
was a rare thing that those southem pioneers at- 
tempted the labor of clearing the fields entirely, as 

♦The first eetttera of Western New York had a ahnilar praetioe. After falling the 
large trees of hard wood, they not unfrequently chopped a place hi their trunks 
ami made a fire there, on the top of which thoy placed another hard stick called a 
•' nijri?or," which they occasionally stirred to increase ignition — and in that mau- 
n»'r thoy made the Are work for them, and burnt the trees in pieces, while they 
luud their uxes ou other icees. 

82 J. W. LOGUEN. 

is customary with the pioneers of the north. In 
the neighborhood of such fields might be seen J;wo 
or three log cabins, which served for the dwelling of 
the whites and blacks, and shelter for horses and 

It may be safely conceived that Tennesseean agriciil- 
ture made a haggard aspect on the face of noble na- 
ture. The people were mostly emigrants from Vir- 
ginia and North Carolina, and had none of the habits 
of industry, which at the North harden and embol- 
den the farmer, whilst they perfect his skill to change 
the forests into pleasant fields and cheerful residences^ 
for the use and comfort of men. 

It was a chilly morning when Dave sallied out on 
his homeward journey. The tops of the large trees 
were already shorn of their leafy honors, and numer- 
ous squirrels sported on their branches and trunks 
near the • cornfields, and served for a time to divert 
him. The external pressure which for years held his 
mind and body in painful durance, was broken by 
the denouement of this last enterprise, and left him 
to his contemplations. The event which he most 
dreaded, and which he in vain supposed "was done, 
when it was done," to wit, the deliverance from his 
slaves, and their value deposited at NashviUe, was 
accomplished — ^and he rode into the forest thinking 
he was alone with nature. 

The traveller in Tennessee at that day, and partic- 
ularly at that season of the year, jpvas rarely disturbed 
by other travellers. He jogged on his way with all 
the expedition consistent with the ability of his 


horse — ^but not alone did lie travel. Always moved 
by external and sensuous tilings, he had never looked 
into himseli^ or dreamed that his mind was an interior 
world, peopled with angels and devils from whom he 
derived every thought and desire, and that the muta- 
ble things of the outer world were but the incrusta-. 
tion of the substantial and indestructible things with- 
in it. He did not dream that " the kingdom of God 
was (really) within him," and that that kingdom was 
a heaven or a hell in proportion as his affections were 
like or imlike the angels who love or hate him. He 
never dreamed that every struggle of temptation, 
every sensation of conscience, was the touch of the 
Almighty's finger from God's throne within him, in- 
dicating every tendency of a departure from the law 
and order of that kingdom. He supposed he would 
be alone in those inLd woods and unfrequented paths 
— ^that his mind and body, relieved of care and labor, 
would be refreshed by the pure air of the moimtains 
and vales through which his journey lay. His phi- 
losophy never taught him that the solitude of nature 
was the aura of the spiritual world, in which good an- 
gels from within talk with bad men without, and mir- 
ror before them their crimes and deeds imtil prevailing 
goodness wins them to repentance, or prevailing evils 
harden their consciences to the touch of infinite mer- 
cy. He little thought he should meet Cherry and 
her babes in the wilderness, pointing to their wrongs 
and sorrowSj from the day she was kidnapped, and 
pleading for his justice and mercy, and compelling 
him to a decision which would save or damn his 

84 J. W. LOGUEK. 

soul. He did not know that the throne of eternid 
judgment was within him — and that, under God, he 
waa to pass upon his own bad deeds the sentenoe 
which would consign him to the infernal fires which 
engendered them — or that other sentence which would 
change those fires into a love which was li& eternal 
But so it was. The change of scenery diverted 
him until the novelty ceased, and his mind wee 
wrapped in the inspiration of the wilderness. A 
idling altogether new came over Mm. He seemed 
in the vestibule of another world, and in the midst of 
those with whom his life had been connected. He 
was let into himself to see his own spirit daguerreo 
typed in his life. His slaves were impersonated in 
t^eir wrongs, and for miles and hours, he was torture 
ed with the ghosts of memory. The evils which 
were past, plead for rescue from evils to corner 
Most dearly of all, did Cherry and her babes rise be- 
fore him andappeal to his charilaes. It was in vain 
he attempted to avoid them. Like the ghost of Ban* 
quo, they would not down at his bidding. The va^ 
lious ways in which he could save them firom coming 
calamities were opened to his consdousnessB. 'Hb 
might dedaie their fireedom, for she was really free^ 
and the condition of the children followed her con- 
dition by pro-slavery law — ^he might return her to 
her friends in Ohio — ^he might flee with her and hets 
to Canada on the north, or to the Mexican settlements 
on the south — ^he might concoct a. plan with Manaas- 
eth for their deUverance, which would avoid the 
claims of his creditors. Every oonsideratiott of mer- 


cy and jiutioe and oompassion^ was pressed upon 
him, until the light which presented them was gradu- 
ally inteicepted by the veil of delf hood, and they dia* 
eppeaied like dissolving views, and the things of sense 
and nature re-appeared, and he was back to the out- 
waid world, whose deepning shadows covered the 
light within, and he was spiritually blind — externally 
flU was light and beautiful — ^internally, all was night 
It was a fi*tal triumph. Overcome by pride, sensual- 
ity and ambition, he turned his back again upon the 
immutable truths which would certainly save him, be 
the peril ever so great, and embraced the mutable 
things of sense and nature, which would certainly 
gink him, against any amount of human foresight 

As he approached Nashville, the country was more 
cultivated, and traveUers more frequent He was in 
the full enjoyment of jSmcied freedom. He felt re- 
lieved of a double bondage — ^the claims of his credi* 
tors upon his property, and the claims of his slaves 
upon his humanity. He &ncied he saw the end of 
all his embarrassments, and his light spirit was busy 
building castles in the air. The Genii which released 
him from spiritual visions, surrounded him with other 
^pictures which &ncy touched bright^ Spell- 
bound in delicious dreams of the future, he was sud- 
denly startled by a voice behind him — 
" Well, Dave, I have found you at last** 
•* Good!" said Dave. ** You, Joseph, are the man 
I wanted tosee. I am prepaied lEbr you. The money 
is in the hands of my banker, Bit Nashville, for the 
payment of those infernal executions, and I ani 

86 J. W. LOQUEN. 

anxious to cancel them and have them off my mind." 
" All right. But you look better — ^more cheerfiil 
than you have done. What turn of fortune, pray, 
has wrought the improvement on your spirit?" 

"Why, sir, I have been horribly under the load. To 
be burdened with debts and pursued by creditors as 
I have been, is enough to make any man solemn ; and 
the way and only way I had to discharge them, waa 
calculated to intensify that solemnity to torturing and 
unbearable pain. Thank God it is all over now. I 
have sold my slaves, and they are out of my sight 
and out of my heart. The burden is all gone, and I 
can pay my debts, and have a balance to begin anew, 
I hope. I am in a new world, Joseph. The Lord is 
on my side, I believe. The sun, and the world it en- 
compasses and vivifies, are as bright to my eyes as to 
yours, now. Thank God I shall be free." 

" Of course the Lord is on your side ; but are you 
on his side ? — ^that is the point" 

" Why, that is what I mean." 

" You are happy ?" 


" May you not learn that your happiness is a de- 

" How can it be a delusion ? I feel it — ^I know it, 
— ^there can be no mistake," 

" Well, I want you to be happy. I want to be 
happy myself, and see others happy — ^but allow me to 
say to you, that the buoyancy that comes of relief 
from debt may be a wretched counterfeit, after all. 


I hope, sincerely, that your experience may not teach 
you that yours is spurious." 

" This is a matter in which I, alone, am the witness, 
aad can, of course, alone decide — ^and I will prove 
my happiness to you over the best bottle of wine in 
Nashville, after 4,hose executions are discharged." 

" Ah ! my dear fellow, I appreciate 'your generos- 
ity* — ^but I fear you do not appreciate your own state." 

"How is that?" 

" You have forgotten what I told you when last we 
met. There are two kinds of happiness — ^the one 
comes of the love of self, and the other of the love 
of the neighbor. Both are real, but not genuine. 
There is a broad difference between them. One, in 
fact, is infernal — ^the other celestial. The soui-ce of 
your joy, and the assertion of yours, that you are the 
only witness in the premises, leads me to fear the 
quality of your delight." 

" There you are — ^preaching again — ^but I love to 
hear you preach. You talk philosophy and good 
gense. I wish our clergy would preach as you do — 
go on — ^I want to hear you. And first of all, tell me 
what diflference it, makes, whether my happiness is 
my own only — ^the pleasure that comes from the love 
of seli^ or the love of others. If I am happy, I am 
happy — come the gratification whence it may. It be- 
longs to me alone, not to another — ^it is in me and 
not in another, and ant.^ther cannot speak of it, of* 

" Difference ! It is the difference between Heaven 
and Hell ! In one case you delight in the happiness 

88 J. W. LOQUEK. 

of others, and are in Heaven — ^in the other, you de- 
light in sensual and worldly things, for the sake of 
self, and are in Hell." 

"Go on — do you propose to make out I am in 

" I don't propose anything about it I was but con- 
trasting my notions of happiness with yours. I spoke 
of Heayen and Hell incidentally. They are states in 
a man, not places outside of him. He, who, forget- 
ting self, delights in good done to others, and lives in 
the happiness of his neighbors — ^who feels their hap- 
piness within him, not thinking of his own — ^whose 
joys are their joys, that man is in Heaven. Place 
him in any natural condition you will, and all the 
devils and flames of Hell cannot hurt him. On the 
other hand, he who seeks his own happiness, in him- 
self, and for himseli^ forgetful of his neighbors, of 
necessity, hates all who conflict with himself — ^and 
though he may have moments of delirious delight, 
he is, in fact, in Hell — and cannot fail to come into 
conflict with others — and in the end, sink into the 
flames of his own passions and lusts." 

" Joseph, you are a better philosopher than Divine. 

* Charity begins at home,' is a truism as old as man- 
kind. The charge of the apostie is founded on it — 

* if any provide not for his own, especially for his 
own house, he has denied the faith, and is worse than 
an infidel.' " 

" There are those who are indeed worse than infi- 
dels — ^worse, because wilfully blind to truth. They 
are those who falsify the Word for the indulgence of 


self love — ;who provide * for the flesh to fulfil the 
lusts thereof.' * Provisions,' in the sense of the Scrip- 
tures, are truths and goods — ^the treasures of the mind, 
which is the house^ the Heaven^ the horne of Ood. The 
children of such house, are the products of such truths, 
goods, and treasures, begot by use, ' Provisions,' in 
the sense of your interpretation, are fcUses and evUs 
and their offepring, tenants of that Jioitse when self 
love has changed it into a HeU. Christ begins by 
driving those evil and false things out Of his home, 
and fitting it for Heaven's uses. You libel charity 
which * seeketh not its own,' but begins in use to oth- 
ers, and ends in joys which result firoip such use. 
Those only who do good*to. others are man-like, 
Christ-hke, God-like. The Lord never taught a doc- 
trine at war with his own likeness." 

"Go on — ^may be you will make me a convert 
What sect do you belong to ? I should like to know." 

" I don't belong to any sect ; my religious plat- 
form, which is * charity,' can have no foundation in 
sect, and no abode but in * truth.' Charity disarms 
sects, and merges them in a common brotherhood. 
Would to God you were converted to my opinions, 
and lived their, not my life — ^theory is one thing, 
and practice quite another thing — "life is every- 

" You are a singular man — ^you don't talk religion 
like other folks. What is religion ?" 

" Eeligion is Love to the neighbor manifested in the 

" If that is religion, there are a blessed few xeli- 

90 J. W. LOGUEX. 

gioTiB men and women in the world — ^ypu may bet 
your life of that." 

" And for that very reason it is necessary to build 
a new ark, or new church, and gather into it, again^ 
the beasts and birds and living things, representa- 
tives of affections, which have been seduced away. 
The old church has died out, and the Lord comes in 
the new, just as fast as he disappears in the old — just 
as fast as the world is willing to receive him. There 
is just aa much religion in the world now, as there is 
love to, the neighbor, and no more. Eeligion is life 
— ^it is love to others, in action, for their good. The 
Lord never^^left his church — ^he never left anybody. 
It is they who leave him. The story of his ascension 
and return in the clouds, is symbohc and prophetic 
language. It asserts apparent, not real truth, just as 
when it is said * God is angry.' The Lord, of course, 
can never' leave men, or be angry with them. Men 
leave him, though, and change his hght into dark 
clouds, and his pure love into infernal hate. They 
make theii: own lives — and the clouds in which th^^ 
Lord appears and disappears, are in the mental, not 
the material world." 

" What do you mean by men making their own 

" A man's life is his ruling love — ^it is himself. In 
general terms, life is love. What we love, we do. 
Take from you your love, and you cannot speak or 
think, or act — ^you are annihilated — ^your love is your 
life. If your ruling love leads you to mercy, justice 
and goodness, you are spiritually ajive, and are in the 

man's ruling love. 91 

way to regeneration and Heaven. On the contrary 
if your ruling love overrides your inclination to mer- 
cy, justice and goodness, you are spiritually dead, or 
dying, and on your way to Hell. That is to say — ^in 
each case you will be giving to your affection a state, 
or form, which will determine the character of your 
acts and desires, forever. Our love remains with us 
after death, and rules us forever. Heaven and Hell 
are states of the soul." 

" Your divinity always captiv)ates me, Joseph, but 
it thwarts my purposes and feelings crttelly. Never- 
theless, I always feel in a good atmosphere in your 
company. Your philosophy is beautiful,* but it be- 
gets a painful conflict within me, between duties and 
inclinations. When I leave you, I have no peace un- 
til I forget it all in my affairs." 

" For God's sake, don't let that conflict cease, imtil 
your inclinaifions- side with your duties. It is the 
process of regeneration. It is the spirit with you in 
the wilderness, as it was with Christ He was a man, 
|ind his victory over his lusts which hungered for in- 
dulgence, made his humanity divine. Such a victory 
would make you an angel of Heaven — defeat, will 
sink you into a devil*" 

" Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian. 
Whatif Iwasone?" 

" K you be a Christian, it will be your joy that 
you are useful to others — ^your joy wiU be in the use. 
And again, mark me — whether you will or no, infi- 
nite wisdom will make you tributary to mercifiil 
ends. Uses on the earth, are the same as uses in 

92 J. W. LOGUEN. 

the Heavens, to wit, doing good to others. The joyB 
of Heaven and the joys of earth, are not in the states 
of the soul merely, but in the actual uses which the 
soul performs — ^it is the use, the happiness of others, 
which makes heavenly joy." 

They had now arrived at Nashville, and the collo- 
quy ended. The last remark of Dave was — 

"How I regret that this conversation must end 
here. May we have another opportunity to continue 
it to the end of the chapter. There are various topics 
I want your advice upon, and I shall delight in an 
opportunity for that advice." 

" I shall always be happy to talk with you ; Hut if 
I have given any light to your mind, set it down to 
the Lord himself — ^it is hig light, not mine. It is now 
twelve o'clock — ^meet me at my office at half-past 

" Dine with me, Joseph." 

"I can dine nowhere — ^I tave * uses' to perform, 
which I must attend to. Eemember — just half-past 

Joseph emphasized his declaration of * uses ' with a 
smile, indicating both playfulness and sincerity, and 
waving his hand, .departed. 

Dave had his heart full and running over. Wheth- 
er intended to that end or not, the words of his friend 
fell like fire upon his conscience. He felt them to be 
true, and because they were true, they lay where 
they fell, and burned like hot iron. But he passed 
into a cold atmosphere. That fire soon ceased to 
bum — and another fire, congenial to his interior state, 


healed the wound it made. Though naturally im- 
pressible to the kindest sentiments, his life had been 
a succession of self gratifications, and whatever might 
have been his misgivings during the talk with Joseph, 
they soon vanished in the storm of passions which 
clamored for indulgence. 


Jarm now felt, for the first time, what it was to be 
a slave. He was turned into the fields with the other 
hands, without experience, to do his part, accordiog 
to his years. Unfortunately, his personal appearance 
and strength were beyond his years, and led his over- 
seer to expect more of him than is usually exacted 
from boys of his age. By the instruction and assis- 
tance of Cherry, he was soon able to accomplish all 
that was required of him, and more, had tiiere been 
motive to prompt him to do more. • 

Manasseth Logue purchased a plantation on the 
Tombigbee, where he lived after he sold out to his 
brother David, as stated in the previous chapters." 
Beside his plantation employments, he kept at his old 
trade of manufacturing whisky. Had he been a 
manufacturer and vender only, it had been better for 
liis character, habits, property and family. But un- 

94 J. W. LOQtJEK. 

happily, he and his wife were large consumers also, 
and sank together into intemperance. Their original 
virtues, if they had any. were lost, and they were 
very drunken, passionate, brutal and cruel. As 
a consequence, their habitation, and the habitations of 
their slaves, were neglected, filthy and uncomfortable. 
They had several sons and daughters, most of them 
older than Jarm — all idle, ignorant, unlettered, and 
gross in their manners and habits, following fast in ' 
the steps of their miserable parents. Those parents 
belonged to that unfortunate class of drunkards, whom 
liquor makes mad— and when in it, as a general thing, 
fight each other, abuse their slaves, and every body 
else who come in their way. Jarm has frequently 
seen them fly at each other with great fury, — chase 
each other with stones, clubs, tongs, or whatever 
other thing was handy — and rave, and curse, and 
threaten, like mad ones. 

When such scenes occurred — €ind, alas I they were 
loo frequent— the slaves were particularly careful to 
be out of sight — or if in sight, so to demean them- 
selves as not to attract the attention of the fiiries. 
If, by any unlucky act or word,, in such cases, the 
wrath of their master or mistress was attracted to 
the slaves, it waB as steel attracts lightning, and the 
innocent victims were beaten, without sense, reason, 
•or limits. Thus they were often maimed and bruised 
shockingly, and sometimes left almost dead. The 
poor negroes never knew when they were safe in the 
presence of Manasseth and his wife, when they were 
in such condition. And they never were safe, except 


at those rare times when their tormentors were not in 
liquor. And when their master and mistress were 
without liquor, their minds and bodies were so shat- 
tered by the frequent and severe tests to which they 
had been subjected, that they vfeie nervous, irritable, 
and easily excited to deeds of excessive violence* 

About the second spring after Jarm was consigned 
to these barbarians, an event occun*ed illustrative of 
his condition, and of the safety of all the human 
chattels in their possession. He was at work in the 
cornfield with other hands. Cherry not being among 
them. Manasseth was present, and in a condition to 
terrify them all. 

The article used as a hoe by a Tennesseean planter 
could hardly be acknowledged as a hoe by a northern 
farmer. It was a thick, heavy, pyramidal piece of 
flatted iron, with a large eye on the top for a clum- 
sey handle. 

All were excited to the utmost carefulness, not to 
attract the attention of this terrible man, and very, 
attentive at their work to avoid him. 

Unluckily for Jarm, as he raised it to strike, his* 
hoe handle became loose, and the hoe fell to the 
ground This was enough to stir the devil in this 
wicked man; he raised a atone and hurled it at the 
head of the boy, charging him with culpable negli- 
gence in his tools, in terms too vulgar to repeat. 
Jarm dodged the missile, and crazy with excitement, 
raised the hoe and put the handle in it. His master 
ordered liim to go into the yard, near by, and wedge 

&6 J. W. LOGUfiK. 

the handle on, and at the risk of his life, never to ex- 
pose his carelessness in that way again. ^ 

Already had Jarm partaken largely of the alarm 
which made all around him tremble with fear. He 
obeyed the command promptly, and returned to his 
work. He spared little time for the purpose, well 
knowing if he did not return quick, the tiger would 
be after him. In his haste and fright, he thought to 
fasten the handle sufficiently for the time his master 
was by, and to finish it when he had gone. The 
wedge he drove into the handle stuck out of the end 
of it an inch or two, and he went to work with his 
hoe in that shape. 

The instrument answered the purpose for a short 
time, when, most unluckily, he struck the wedge 
against something, and knocked it out, and off went 
the hoe again. Alas ! poor Jarm I 

Tlie last unlucky event tlirew the intoxicated beast 
into a phrenzy of passion. Blazing with alcohol and 
Hell within, he picked up the long wedge, and swore 
. the boy should swallow it. As if to compel him to 
do so, he ordered Jarm to open his mouth. Jarm in- 
stinctively demurred to the absurd proposition, but 
'Manasseth was inflexible. So soon as Jarm hesita- 
ted, his enemy struck him a blow on the side of the 
head, with his fist, which brought him to the ground. 
The brute, with increased passion, leaped on him, 
and held him down — and in that conditipn charged 
the boy to open his mouth, on peril of his life — ^at 
the same time pressing the wood against his lips and 
teeth. Jarm, fearing he would break in all his teeth, 


partly opened hid jaws, and the wretch immediateljr 
crowded the wedge m, until it reached the roof of hifl 
mouth, before he could stop it with his teeth. He 
now began to pound it in witl^ his heavy fist. Not 
withstanding Jarm held on widi his teeth, the wedge 
was driven into the roof of his mouth, and mangled 
it ftightfdlly. The blood flowed down his throat, 
and profiisely firom his mouth. , 

So soon as Jarm found his teeth Were likely all t6 
be broken, and that there was no hqpe of sympathy 
from the intoxicated wretch, he obeyed the instincts 
of nature, and by a sudden and powerfdl effort, he 
seized the wedge and the hand that held it, and turn- 
ing his head at the same time, delivered his mouth 
from the instrument, and turned it towards the 
ground — ^resolved, if he was to be murdered, he 
would not be murdered in that way. The heartless 
man then commenced punching the boy with the sharp 
end of the wedge, on his head and mouth, making 
bloody gashes — Jariii dodging, as well as he could, to 
avoid the blows. 

This cruel transaction, from the time of thci first 
attack to the close^ lasted some minutGi&— -^hen, tired 
\vith the effort, Manasseth rgse from tiie body of the 
boy, and ordered him to get up dnd learn how to 
wedge a hoe. 

Jarm was weak and braised, and his lips and 
mouth shockingly mangled and covered with gore. 
With sonie diflBiCulty he rose to his feet, wiped the 
sweat and blood from his face and lips, spit the blood 
from his mouth, and returned to the yard, to fasten 

98 J. w. LoaUEN- 

the handle to his hoe again/ At the same time^ his 
masterj with dreadftil oaths and curses, muttered 
against his handS) and Jarm ill particular, turned his 
fiace to the distillery, and soon disappeared— to the 
great relief and joy of Jarm and all the other hands 

This experience Was Valuable to Jahn, for it reveal- 
ed to him his positioAS and relations to slavery, which 
he ever afterwards remembered with perfect distinct- 
ness. He was now about fourteen years of age, of 
excellent strength and health, and saw there was no 
other way for him, but 'to bear his trials with all pos- 
sible discretion-— and if an opportunity occurred to 
escape, to embrace it at whatever peril— but if doom- 
ed to remain a slave, to die struggling with his 
tyrant, when driven to the last extremity. To this 
resolution he was always obedient— ever mindfiil of 
the occasion that induced him to make it 

For many days it was with dijBBiculty that Jaifif. 
swallowed his food or performed his tasks. Without 
the sympathy and assistance of his mother, and the 
liands, with whom he was a favorite, he would prob* 
ably have failed in his labors. "With their assistance, 
he Was i*e6toredto abilitj and soundness, and had full 
opportunity to digest the terrible instruction this 
transaction ftimished. 

Cheriy, fortunately, was absent when this outrage 
Was committed. The slaves who were present, would 
have interfered to prevent the cruelty, had they not 
Supposed their interference would expose themselves 
to gl*eatei* evils than might be inflicted on Jarm, 


withoat the hope of lessening his wrongs. But, had 
Oherry been there, nothing would have restrained 
her uncalculating and indomitable courage firom 
pitching into the iBight Jarm esteemed it fortunate 
that his mother was absent. 

Such was the state of things in this unhappy fam* 
ilj for a year after the above outrage, when they 
were awakened, at dead of night, by a glaring light, 
which filled every cabin, and made their dark rooms 
brighter than day. They all sprang in terror from 
their miserable beds, and saw the old distillery buried 
under a pyramid of fire, which spread a sheet of light 
in every direction over the country around. The 
first moment of alarm having passed, they saw the 
flames had progressed to a complete victory over the 
vile establishment The negroes were delighted, first 
at the beauty and sublimity of the scene, but more 
firom the hope, that, as the cause of their daily peril, 
terror and suffering came from that distillery, its des- 
truction would be to them the beginning of better 

Kor were they mistaken. Manasseth, and his wife 
and children, walked around this blazing hell, and 
witnessed with horror the bursting barrels spurting 
their burning contents, which flowed in flaming rivu- 
lets around the base of the pyramid. To them, it 
was a shocking sight. At first, they could not look 
upon the ruin of so much of the " dear creature " 
without sympathy for their aching apetites and fail- 
ing revenues. With all their sottishness and negli- 
gence, they never lost sight of. their property- -and 

100 /. w. uxivmt. 

though they did not, and with Iheir habiteocrald not| 
accumulate property, they did not sink their avarice 
in a thirst for liquor. They "held their own" in 
that respect, while they weie £sust giving their souls 
and bodies to the evil one. Having surveyed the sad 
spectacle for some tLtne, the following colloquy en* 
sued: — 

" All gone to the devil !" said Manasseth^ 

" Good riddance I" said the old wcnnan. 

" A thousand dollars in a single night," he replied. 

" Good riddance, I say," responded the old she bloat, 
as the pale light of the fire reflected fix)m her blood^^ 
swollen cheeks. 

" What do you mean by that?" 

** I mean we are better without than with the in- 
fernal thing. It has made brutes of you and me, and 
has been fest making brutes of our children. I am 
heartily glad to see this flre." 

" But I tell you here is a great loss of property." 

" The loss is gain, I tell you. Had it been burned 
as soon as built, and remained burned, we should be 
better off as to property this moment, besides being 
decent and respectable people. We should not then 
be the miserable creatures we now are. I am glad to 
see it bum." • « 

"Why, do you mean that you will live without 
whiskey ?" 

" I shall try it— you may bet your life of that I 
had rather die for the want of it, than be burned up 
by the accursed stuff, soul and body together. I re* 

BjpsaBJUunas. Wl 

j^ce thM there ia no oth^ place where it caa be had 
for many miles around." 

"But the property — ^weie it not fop the yabieof 
the property, I could rejoice with you — fop I allow it 
has been a curse to us almost as great as absolute 

"Infinitely greater, Manasseth. How much hap- 
pier would we be in absolute poverty, with sound 
minds and bodies, and peaoeM affections, than in the 
HeU where we have been burning for years — ^and 
dragging our children there, too. like the Bich 
Man, I have been in agony fop a drop of watep to 
cool my tongue fop years, and now feel it drop upon 
my soul fiDm the light of this fire. We have prop- 
erty enough left — let us employ the brains we have 
left, to turn it to bettep uses, for our own good and 
the good of OUT children." 

" It is the first sensible proposal you have made in 
eight years. And now, how do you suppose the dis- 
tillery took fire?" 

" Can you doubt' about it ? Of oouise those spoil- 
ed boys yondep did i%, They won't teH us — but t^ 
tputh is, they we^ h^ heiie last nighty and no doubt 
they left fire so caielei^y that it fixed the bmldiQ^ 
We are ruining oux children, Manasseth, and t^ 
Lord has burned the building to wake you and me to 
the business of saving them^-which can ouJy be done 
by leaving this hatefiil thing in its a^hes, and living 
like sober people. I am-glad it is burned, I sfty, and 
I pray Heaven it may stay burned." 

102 J. w. LoauBK, 

' " Then you have sworn, in earnest, to have noih* 
ing more to do with liquor?" 

" I have so sworn." 

"D ^n the stuff— FU join you," said he. 

" Boys, give three cheers for the old distillery I" 

This took the negroes by surprise ; but they joined 
the white Logues, and sent up a * Hurrah' which 
filled the country axound with a jubilant demonstra- 
tion. This was the first time, for years, that the pres- 
ence of their master and mistress was tolerable to the 
slaves — but now their presence was not tolerable 
only, but joyous. They joined in the loud hurrah 
with eminent gusto, for it honored a compact, which, 
ftdfilled, would deliver them fi:om the greatest terror 
of their lives. 

It was the whiskey from that distillery that made 
beasts of their master and mistress. Left to their 
own natures, which .were not lovely, they were en- 
durable — ^because the slaves knew how to find them, 
and could act intelligibly. Subjeqt as they had been 
to fits of intoxication, which occurred almost, if not 
quite every day — sometimes one drunk, and then the 
other ; and sometimes, and often, both drunk togeth- 
er^ and always under the influence of liquor, the ne- 
groes never knew when they were safe — and they 
never were safe in the presence of their master and 
mistress — ^and ofl«n suffered the most terrible injustice 
and cruelty. The slave must fit himself to the will 
of his master. This he can never do if his master is 
a drunkard — ^and if he is an ugly drunkard, as were 


both of these, then is the poor slave literally deliver- 
ed over to be tormented by devils. 
* This chapter might be lengthened to any extent, 
with details of cruelties and outrages inflicted by 
Manaaseth and his wife during their intoxication. 
But they are too atrocious and disgusting to be recor- 
ded. The above outrage on Jarm must suflftce as a 
specimen — ^but by no means the worst specimen of 
their numerous and shocking barbarities. 

The reader may easily infer that the slaves were 
happy to witness this compact of their tormentors, 
and will not wonder that their voices, louder than the 
rest, rolled upon the clouds, and reverberated from 
the hills and woods. 

Thus, this* event, which the slaves supposed would 
drive their master and mistress to madness, to be 
vented, as usual, on them, put the latter in possession 
of their reason, and the former in comparative safety. 

Slaveholders are in their owii place, and of course 
creatures of sense. From necessity, they are licen- 
tious and intemperate, or are in kindred evils. Their 
sensuous spirits look downwards to the earth, where 
they hold their human chattels only as instruments of 
£heir pleasures, and never upwards to the heavens. 
Did they turn their affections upwards, they would 
bear their slaves aloft with them, into the region of 
religion and liberty. Instead of holding them for 
selfish ends, their slaves would be only instruments 
of higher use to them. *^ A servant is the Lord's 
freeman," and the Lord's injunctions is, " neither be 
ye called master, for. one is your master," and " who- 

101 J. W. LOGUSK. 

soever would be chief among you shall be your ser- 
vant" Slavery is a state, corresponding to the inner 
man. It is the inner man in ultimates. Lust and 
cruelty and murder are as incident to it, as heat is to 
fire, or as love is to life. In other words, it is the ex- 
terior and natural form of internal love which makes 
the master a spiritual bond slave to the greatest tyr- 
ranny in the universe. As slavery is the inverted 
order of humanity, so is a slaveholder an inverted 
man — ^the oppoaites, each, of God and Heaven. 


Not long after the events related in tie last chap- 
ter, a circumstance of great importance occurred, 
which favored the agreement Manasseth and his wife 
made in .their own strength. 

Notwithstanding the injustice and wrong which 
all her life long had been inflicted on Cherry, and 
though outside of Henry and he?p ohildxen she had al- 
ways been surrounded by example of fraud and sin, 
in trying forms, still she preserved an, internal con- 
sciousness of right, and was ever receptive of relig- 
ious impressions. Doubtless those outrages and ex- 
i^ples, taught her ther^ was no ppwer on ^arth upon 

CAXP MXETma. 106 

which die could rdy for support and happiness, and 
led her to look above Ihe earth for repose and com- 

The Methodists largely prevailed in this portion erf 
Tennessee; and in the neighborhood of Manasseth's 
plantation was a notable camp ground for their great 
gatherings. • At those annual gatherings, the inhabi- 
tants of the surrounding country assembled in great 
nimibers, in their best costumes. As a general thing, 
the slaves also were there, as servants of their mas- 
ters and mistresses, or to enjoy a holiday of personal 
relaxation and pleasure, or to sell tte fruits some of 
them were allowed to raise on their little patches of 
ground. The free blacks and poor whites were there 
also, with meats, fruits, and liquors of various kinds, 
to sell to the white aristocrats, who, from pride, or 
fashion, or religion, were attracted to the placa The 
camp was the universal resort of lovers and rowdies, 
politicians and pleasure seekers of every kind, as well 
as religionists, who gathered about the preachers, or 
promenaded in the woods, or refreshed at the booths, 
where the poor whites and blacks exposed their pro- 
visions for sale. 

For years the old distillery monopolized the entire 
wholesale liquor trade on those occasions. The poor 
people aforesaid purchased it of Manasseth at a whole- 
sale price, and retailed it at a large profit, to the 
world's people and christians who attended the meet- 

These circumstances regarding the camp meetings, 
are related as preliminary and explanatory of the 

106 J. W. LOGUEN. 

events which follow. Cherry invariably attended the 
meetings, when the claims of her master and mis- 
tress did not require her stay at home. Not long 
after the events in the last chapter, a religions 
awakening occurred in the camp, which spread at a 
great distance over the coimtry. Cherry was one of 
the first to feel and acknowledge the divine presence. 
In the agony of her convictions, she fell upon the 
earth, and begged forgiveness at the throne of mercy, 
in tones of impassioned earnestness. Her master and 
mistress, touched by the sight of their poor slave in 
such a condition, left their place among the whites, 
and stood near her, to hear her words and watch the 

It is proper here to remark, that, though religion 
in a slave is always a marketable quality, and there- 
fore their masters are always desirous their slaves be 
converts, for the supposed increased value which re- 
ligion gives them ; still, we woidd not convict Cher- 
ry's master or mistress, on this occasion, of a motive 
fijo unworthy. Nevertheless, it is not unlikely, if 
they had searched their bosoms' closely, they might 
have found at least a dormant motive of that sort, 
because it is inseperable from the condition of master 
and slave. 

Manasseth and his wife stood behind the praying 
slave, and received every word from her lips. She 
first plead for herself— and then, as if caught by a 
new inspiration which left self out of sight, she be- 
sought the divine spirit to fill every soul of the great 
assembly. Warmed by the increasing fervor of her 


devotion, and forgetting every presence but her Lord, 
she descended to particulars, and prayed for her cliil- 
dren and husband, and for divine assistance that they 
and she might act with a becoming and christian 
spirit in theit. trying circumstances — ^and finally, as if 
moved by the soul of charity, she embraced her cruel 
master and mistress, and bore them to the throne of 
pardon and grace, and continued her prayer for them, 
imtil the influx of divine love was so thrilling and ^ 
potent, that nature yielded to the spirit, and she fell 
amongst the throng that crowded about her, in a 
speechless delirium of spiritual scenes and joys. To 
adopt the style of this class of christians, Cheny be- 
came converted, and had "the power." Though 
covering many subjects, her prayer, on this occasion, 
was not long, but direct and earnest, in the simple 
but touching words of an unlettered slave. 

The angel of mercy which had smitten Cherry 
down, like a mighty contagion, marched through the 
crowd, numbering as his victims, blacks and whites 
together in his course. For days and nights, the 
groans of sinners mingled with the songs of converts 
and the shouts of saints. The great assembly swelled 
hourly by the attraction the awakening produced, and 
the whole country aro^und was convulsed by the divine 
spirit. In the progress of events, the hard and stub- 
bom heart of Manasseth, first touched by the prayer 
of Cherry, relaxed in the fervor of the excitement, and 
melted into penitence, and his harsh voice also ming- 
led in the cry, " What shall I do to be saved ?" His 
wife, also, was soon flooded with convictions of her 

108 J. vr. LoaiTEN. 

awM sinftilness, and the hnsbaiid and wife trembled 
and groaned together, in view of the eternal and aw- 
M Hell the preachers hung out before them. Long 
continued habits of intemperance, but just abandon- 
ed, left their nerves in a state eminently susceptible of 
the impressions which the skilfully selected words of 
the preachers employed to play upon them. So soon 
as their minds received the fearfiil picture of their 
depravity, and the startling horrors of the damned 
which awaited Ihem in their then condition, a flood 
of emotions bore them into the vortex of the mighly 
maelstrom, in which they sank to come up saints. 

We are as much in the dark*as to the number of 
converts on this occasion, as we are to the evidence of 
their after lives of the reality and genuineness of 
their conversions. Nominally, they were blacks and 
whites — slaves and slave-holders — ^rich and poor, of 
both sexes, and in great numbers. Had they aU been 
truly christian converts, the valley of the Tombig- 
bee, by the power of God displayed in the camp, 
would have been changed into a picture of almost 
universal regeneration, and presented no faint image 
of Heaven. But alas for repentance without a 
change of life, and for conversions which leave the 
converts where they were. 

That some of the converts, with the help of the 
Lord, commenced a life of combat with inherited and 
welcomed evils, there is little doubt. That such was 
the case with Cherry was never doubted by those 
who knew her. Nor could it be denied that the 
lives of others were essentially modified and improv- 


ed hy impreBsiaDS Teoeiyed at those meetmga Sudi, 
obviotisly, was the case with Manasseth Logae and 
Us wife. K the impressions they received did not 
serve tQ clench the naQ upon the compact they short- 
ly before made at the burning distillery, it did eflFec- 
toally bend the naQ in the right direction. But, alas, 
as a general truth, in a £sw weeks after the noise of 
the mnltitade, and the eloquence of the preachers 
died on the ears of the people, there remained on their 
memories and on the morals of society, no greater 
eflfect than was produced by a bygone thunder storm. 

In stating such conclusions, it is not to be under- 
stood that the number of religious professors was not 
greatly increased, and that there were not many 
praying men and women where there were none be- 
fore; Multitudes, of all colors and sexes, made open 
profession of religion, and engaged in public and pri- 
vate worship. Among those, and in the same church, 
were Cherry and ber owners, who were baptized to- 
gether in the name of the Father, the Son, and the 
Holy Ghost 

From that time forward, so long as Jann remained 
in Tennessee, Manasseth daily assembled his femily 
and slaves in the evening for Scripturer reading and 
prayers, and himself and wife and Cherry were in 
good standing in the Methodist Church. With what 
propriety he was classed with Christians, the reader 
will judge from what follows. 

Such changes had been produced in the industrial 
and pecimiary affairs of Manasseth, by the loss of 
the distillery, that he hired out, or mortgaged, a &w 

110 J. W. LOGUBN. 

of his slaves to a neighboring planter, as a matter of. 
personal economy, or as the means of raising money. 
Among the slaves thus leased or mortgaged, were 
Jarm and his mother. This occurred in the spring 
after her conversion. The precise length of the term 
of the lease, or the condition of the mortgage, Jarm 
does not remember. At any rate, it was determined, 
so far as they were concerned, in a short time, and 
they were returned to their master. 

This temporary change in the condition of Cherry 
and Jarm is worth noticmg only for an incident which 
occurred therein. 

It was early in the spring when they were trans- 
ferred to Mr. . As regards severity of labor, ' 

a hired or mortgaged slave, in possession of the 
mortgagee, is always in the worst condition. The in- 
terest of his owner of course regards his health and 
strength as of the greatest pecuniary importance, but 
if he is held by a mortgagee or lessee, the interest 
changes from the person of the slave to the amount 

of labor to be obtained from him. This Mr. , 

therefore, through his overseer, sought from Cherry 
and Jarm the greatest amoimt of labor he could con- 
sistently realize from them. Whether so directed by 
the proprietor, or not, it was obvious to Cherry that 
such was the aim of the overseer, and she bore with 
as much patience as she could the increased hard- 
ships upon herself and son. 

Some two months after they had been in the em- 
ploy of Mr. , Jarm was doing a man's days 

work, with all the hands, hoeing com. The over- 


seer stood a leaching distance behind the drove of 
weary laborers (it -being the latter part of the day) 
with his heavy long lashed slave-whip in his hand. 
Fancying that Jann was slighting his work, and 
while he (Jarm) was altogether unawares, the over- 
seer brought the lash down upon his almost naked 
body,- with a — "Look out, there! you black ras- 
cal ! Do your work better, or I'll take your hide 
off! Take that! — ^and that! — and that!" — ^raising his - 
arm to repeat the blow. Cherry rushed between the 
overseer and the boy, hoe in hand, and told the over- 
seer he should not whip Jarm, for that he was not to 
blame. • 

Thi3 but increased the rage of the mad coward, 
and he again brought down the lash with increased 
force, which Jarm easily dodged ; and then, changed 
ends with the instrument, to iniBiict a blow on 
Cherry with its leaded butt. She raised her hoe and 
made toward him. Kjiowing her amazonian strength, 
and cowering before the resolution which was mani- 
fest on her features, the craven rascal turned and 

By this time the indignant spirit of Cherry was at 
•its height, and she ran after him, and put forth all 
the speed she could to overtake him. For a time^ it 
was doubtful which was getting ahead, butat the mo- 
ment he was passing out of the field. Cherry, because 
she supposed she could not overtake him, or because 
she was weary of the chase, threw her hoe at him, ex- 
claiming — 

" HI learn you to strike a boy of mine; when he is 

112 J. W. LOGUBK. 

not to blame, and is doing the best he can \ — da it 
again at the peril of your life!" • 

Should the reader infer ought against the Chrigtia!i 
character of Cherry from this act, they should r^ 
member that her religion was not of the pasave sort, 
and as yet had not taught her to discredit the first 
doctrine she found among the instincts of her nature, 
to wit, ^^resistance to tyrants is obedience^ to Ood^ Of 
course she belonged not to the non-resistant school. 

It would be natural to suspect, that, according to 
the usages and laws of slavery, Cherry now would be 
the subject of some terrible chastisement. Had not 
Manasseth. interfered, and had she remained at Mr. 

^'s, she probably would have been. As before 

said, it was the latter part of the day when the above 
transaction took place, and the overseer did not that 
day again return to the field. On that very evening 
Cherry and Jarm were returned to their old master, 
Manasseth Logue. 

About three days after their return, an event oc- 
curred too terrible to record. Indeed, it was so 
shocking in its details and in its results — so inter- 
nally and spiritually diabolical, that the material 
world has no symbols, or letters, or figures, to give 
but a'faint idea of it The skill of the painter, poet 
and historian is displayed in portraying the features 
of the soul to outward nature. • After all, their best 
efforts are poor sketches of internal realitieSr The 
symbob which nature and language present to the 
mind through the natural senses, are fcut correspon- 
obaces ci thoughts and affections, which are rarely 


aeexL b j the spiiitoal senses mitil tib.6 mortal coil is 
put off. The simple facts in the case are all that will 
be given. They are, perhaps, as gentle a pictnie of 
Manasseth Logue's chnatianity in particular, and of 
southern Christianity in genersJ, as we can giyei or as 
genuine charity will be willing to look at 

It will be remembered that Manasseth Logue, his 
wife and Ohexry had been baptised at the same time, 
into the same Church, and on the Sunday previous 
to the case to be related, had partaken of the holy 
sacrament together; both being in good and reg- 
ular standing in the Church. The &mily and slaves, 
after supper, assembled, as usual, at the fiuaoily altar 
and listened to a chapter from the Bible, read by Ma 
nasseth— «nd then Cherry, with her little children by 
her side, fell on her knees with him and his wife, and 
joined in prayer to the Father of Mercieff, for his 
pardon and blessings on their soiUs, and a copious in- 
flux of that love which binds^ together the Church on 
earth, and the Church in Heaven. 

The next morning, Manasseth s^t the adult ne- 
groes (including Cherry) into the fields at their labors, 
detaining all the children at the hoxise. The arrange- 
ment, though unuauali waa made in such a maoner 
as to excite no surprise. Nor could they have sup- 
posed, that in his change of character a^d relations, 
his heart was susceptible of the, diabolical intents 
which he must have cherished over night, and felt in 
the midst of his impious devotions. 

Some hours after the mothers had gone into the 
Adds, and while. the children were sporting in the 

114 J. W. LOGUEN. 

yards about the premises, two or three men on hoiS€h 
back rode up, and at the request of Manasseth dis- 
mounted and came into the door-yard. The oocia> 
rence was rare, and the appearance of the strangers 
so marked, that they attracted the notice of the chil*- 
dren, who left their sports and stood at a respectftil 
distance to eye them. 

After a short conversation with the strangers, du* 
ring which time the eyes of Manasseth and his com- 
panions were turned toward the children, he called all 
of them into the yard, and commanded the oldest oB 
them, in a stem voice, to stand perfectly still, and say 
not one word unless spoken to, while the strangers 
examined them. In giving this injunction, Jarm no- 
ticed the eye of the master particularly bent on him* 
self, who was one of the oldest and stoutest of the 
boyg. After this order to the children, he then told 
the men to examine the children and take their 

The elder children instantly knew the men werfe 
negro traders, and the horrors of the scene at Man- 
Booe's Creek flashed upon the memory of Jamu 
Now it was apparent that some of theni were to be 
sold to these traders, and that their mothers had been 
sent out of sight and hearing in the fields, to avoid 
Ihe scene the separation would produce if they were 

The rude men immediately began to examine the 
bodies and limbs of the children — ^who had been 
taught by their mothers that the touch of such men 
was more dreadftil than the touch of wild beasts. 

sblbchno stock. 116 

They soon selected Jarm's brother and second sister 
— the former about thirteen, and the latter about 
eight years of age. They were beautiftd and lovely 
children, and unspeakably dear to Jarm. They had 
been the objects of his aflfectionate care during infan- 
cy, and were his companions during childhood. He 
had taught them to walk and sing and play ; and the 
happiness of his life had been cherished by their at- 
tention and caresses. He had never been separated 
fix)m them, and their society seemed inseperable fix)m 
his existence. The sister not daring to move, on 
hearing the fetal decision, turned one imploring look 
at Jarm, and then broke into tears and sobbed aloud. 
They were immediately brought together, and the 
wrist of the right arm of one fastened to the wrist of 
the left hand of the other with a strong cord. 
. So soon as the ruffian put his hand on the Jittle 
girl to bind her, no longer able to repress her terror 
and anguish, she shrieked at the top of her voice. 
The voice of the terrified girl sank into the souls of 
all the children present — ^and they rushed through the 
enclosures, screaming with fright; and in spite of the 
commands of Manasseth, fled into the fields- and 
woods in the direction of their mothers, and the val* 
ley echoed with their cries. Jarm, only, remained 
with his goor brother and sister, as if he had been 
rivetted to the spot by speechless sorrow and dispair. 
The mothers heajd the waU of their children, and 
came running through the fields to know the cause 
and relieve them. Learning, by the way, that the 
slave drivers were at the house binding the children, 

116 J. w. JjOQvwx. 

and as t|;iey approached, seeing, at a distance, a long 
coffle of little children (to which Jann's brother ancl 
sister were to be attached) marching towards the 
house, they broke into howls and screams and groaiiS| 
which filled the air. 

" We'll have a fine time of it, now I" said Ma?-, 

"I thought you was going to put those blacfe; 
b s out of sight and hearing." 

" I thought I had done it" 

" They always make such a muss, when we takei 
their children, that it is often quite an incovenienoe. 
Never take the calf in sight of the cow." 

" You will find this the worst case you ever had, I 
fear. That she devil ahead, there, is the mother of 
these children. She is an amazon in strength — ^ 
knows no fear — ^loves her children to madness, and 
wiU fight like a tigress, if she takes a notion, come 
life or come death ; but she is of great value as a 
worker, and is a breeder New 1. And mind you, I 
don't mean to have her disabled ot killed — ^I can't 
afford to lose her." 

" A few cracks of the whip, and, it wiU bei over. 
There are seventy-three children in tiiat drove, pick- 
ed from about twenty-five families^ Y(e had three 
or four scenes, but in most cases dealt with the chil* 
dren only, and got along easy. These two (pointing 
to Cherry's children) make our complement, and we 
can afford to have a ftolic with* the black devils—, 
though I had rather avoid th^ ^rouble. It is incident 


"Yon wiH have a nice one now-^tlwtt droTb of 
children and these crazy ones, with Oherty at theiiP 
head, meeting here, will make a hell not easily man- 
aged — ^and here they are upon us !" 

Manasseth had just completed the delivery of the 
children, with the bill of sale, to the trader, who had 
mounted his horse and held the rope festened to theit 
hands, as Cherry bounded into the yard, and throw* 
ing her arms about the children, in a plaintive but 
firm voice, said— 

" They shan't* take you away I" 

This new scene opened the wounds in the memo* 
dries of the little sufferers all along the coffle, and 
their sobs, chiming with the groans and sighd of the 
surrounding negroes and children, and the moans of 
the agonizing mother, and the harsh voices of the 
traders, made a concert which, in connection with the 
parties, presented an exhibition not to be described. 

"Let go of those children I" said Manasseth, "they 
belong io that man. 

"They shan't go away fiom me I — ^they are my 
children I" said Cherry again, in the same sad voice. 

"Get away, you black b ■ h i" said the trader, 
seizing her by the hair, and attempting to pull her 
away, and dragging the children along with her. 

" They shall not be taken away from me I" 

" You will have to use force," said Manasseth. 

The trader then raised his terrible lash, and ^epea^ 
ed the conmiand — "Let go, or I will cut you in two." 
The command and the motion had no other effect on 

118 J. W. IiOGUEK. 

the frenzied mother, than to make het repeat the 
eame sad words— 

" They shan't be taken away.*' 

The trader then let fall the heavy lash upon the 
naked shoidders of the tmhappy Cherry. The blow 
produced a gash from which the blood flowed freely. 
But so fused were the mind and love of Cherry with 
the minds and love of her terrified children, that'they 
were as one spirit which felt only the danger of sep* 
aration. Her senses were all absorbed by the danger 
of the crisis and the greatness of the outrage, and 
the lash was no more felt than if it had fallen upon a 
corpse. Blow after blow followed, but not a motion 
of the muscles — ^not the least appearance of pain was 
produced, or the least relaxation of her hands — blink- 
ed, as they were, like iron upon the backs of her 
children. The single garment which she wore was 
saturated with blood, which flowed down her limbs 
upon the ground. Still she stood there, holding her 
children in her strong arms, and leaning her head 
upon their heads, repeating the same soothing, moan- 
ing words — 

" They shan't take you away." 

Finding the whip made no impression upon the 
woman, the rufBlan fell into a rage, and was about to 
give her a dreadful blow upon the head with the 
loaded butt of his whip, when Manasseth, fearing 
that his most valuable chattel woidd be disabled, and 
perhaps destroyed, interposed, and told the trader he 
would separate them without disabling her. 


He tten commanded two of his stoutest men, who 
stood at a distance, to come forward and release the 
children from their mother. The blacks came for- 
ward, but hesitated to obey the cruel command. He 
charged them to obey, at the peril of their lives. 
Forced by a fear of consequences, they set about the 
work, and failing to succeed without mechanical aid, 
they p'ryed her arms apart, and released her children. 
Finding herself separate from her children, she fell 
into a frenzy of grief and passion. Charged by their 
master to hold her, with great effort they succeeded 
to do it — ^while the hardened trader led the screaming 
children to the coffle, and fastened their bound wrists 
to the large rope that ran through it. Then, after the 
coffle had started, because she took advantage of the 
carelessness of the keepers— -or because they were 
Willing she should again embrace her children— she 
broke from them, and, ere she could be retaken, flew 
to the coffle and locked her children in her arms 
again— repeating the same moaning words— 

" They shan't take you away from me 1" 

Again were they pryed apart as before, and the 
caravan of children, fastened in front to a larg^ 
wagon, were dragged along in one direction into the 
darkness of the evening, which was coming, fast "on, 
while Cherry was dragged by main force in another 
direction. The former were soon lost to the sight of 
the frantic mother forever. 

That she might not follow her children. Cherry 
was now taken into the room which was used for 
weaving coarse cloth for the negroes, and fastened 

120 J. W. LOGUEK. 

Becurely to the loom, where she remained, raving tod 
moaning, until morning. 

This scene, which is now as vivid as life in the 
memory of J. W. Loguen — ^whose words are as truth- 
ful as any man's living— rwas witnessed by him, with* 
out the possibility of remedy. Upon being asked 
what were his feelings on the occasion, he said to the 
writer — " So overpowering was my sense of the 
wrong and cruelty of the transaction, and so despe- 
rate my helplessness, that I was dead to all conse- 
quences. I was willing to be sold away, or die upon 
the spot." It is not difiScult to see that such must 
have been his state. 

It is philosophically true, that a man's love is his 
life. If it were possible for the slaveholder to des- 
troy all the objects of the slave's love, he would have 
no will or motive of thought or action. He woidd 
be naturally and spiritually dead — ^and when this 
poor boy saw the objects of hiai affection tortured and 
cruciJ&ed, he was necessarily driven to the verge of 
vitality. Motive, the wick from which life's flame 
derives its oil, was perishing.. But because the slave 
is a spiritual as well as a natural being, the extinction 
of his natural or external motives, often flings him 
Into a stupor which id akin to death, or into a des- 
peration which prompts him to terminate his natural 
existence, that his mind and heart may have scope 
and indulgence in another world. 

The reader will wish to hurry over the denoue- 
ment of this horrible outrage. Cherry, stiffened by 
confinement, and covered with wounds and gore, wa5 


no more reconciled in tlie morning than in the even- 
ing. She refused all food and rest, and raved and 
mourned for her children. The reflection that the 
voices which so sweetly answered her call, were 
wailing in that dreadful coflie — or that their bodies 
might be bleeding from the lash which drew her 
blood — ^that she could not go to them, or they come 
to her, almost made her crazy, and overcome every 
other feehng, and deprived her of food and comfort, 
until exhausted nature sank under the load of op- 
pression, and she fell into a brief oblivion of sleep ; 
and then awoke, burdened with sorrows, and tortur- 
ed by pain and burning fever — which deprived her 
of strength, and laid her upon her hard couch for 
days. A kind-hearted old slave woman washed her 
wounds and nursed her, and by the soothing atten- 
tions of her oldest child, Maria, and the affectionate 
sympathy of Jarm — who occasionally saw her — she 
was restored to health, and sadly took her place 
among the hands in the field — ^to her, the only place 
of sympathy during the day. 

This was the first time Cherry 'was compelled to 
part with any of her children. The terrible circum- 
stances under which she was robbed of these, obvi- 
ously affected her mental constitution — and she was 
occasionally melancholy, and always nervous and sus- 
picious of (i&nger. The separation, with its aggra- 
vations, made a perpetual wound upon her spirit, 
which time could not heal. Her heart clung to her 
remaining children with tremulous earnestness. Her 
daily labors were performed with usual strength — ))ut 

122 J. w. LoauEJC. 

"W^ithout the self-possession and >senBe of secttritjTi 
which, even in servitude, extract from labor its evitoi 
and impart to life its blessings. 


"We mil not dwell upon the sad partictdars of the 
life of Jarm during his stay in bondage* We sketch 
them as features of life in a slave land, which, becom* 
ing rapidly visible, are multiplying results beyond ita 
limits* They present a rude picture of the school in 
which the multitudes who flee from it are trained, to 
invigorate the growing sympathies "in their behalf at 
the North and elsewhere. Fugitive slaves are now 
objects of general regard. The public eye is turned 
towards them, and public feeling extended to them as 
they pass through northern thoroughfares. Crippled 
as are their minds, and scarred as are their bodies by 
lashes and wounds, they present a sample of a strong 
and hardy and bold race— whose manly qualities the 
severest tyranny cannot subdue. It may be doubted 
whether, in like circimistances, there is another peo- 
ple on the face of the earth who could preserve their 
nature less, impaired or subdued than they. 

It is this sort of hard discipline which accounts for 
all their offensive peculiarities, and forces upon our 
notice the grand specimens of mind and courage 
A^hich occasionally flash from their more gifted ones 
amid the cultivations of northern freedom. Disgust* 


ing as is the story of their wrongs, they are a neces- 
fjary tod important part of history. They are gene- 
rating a new element of life, which is rapidly infus- 
ing and regenerating the masses, and lifting them to 
a higher and holier sphere of thought and action. 

Jarm was now approaching manhood, with a body 
sound, strong, and active, and a mind capable of ap- 
preciating treatment and calculating for the future. 
He had come to the age when the slave is subjected 
to the severest process of being subdued by hard ser- 
vice and cruel discipline. But he was one of the 
class which it was not easy to su'bdue. Given to the 
tmrestricted dominion of a tyrant like Manasseth 
Logue, it is easily inferred that* his case was a hard 
one. Passing a multitude of examples of such dis- 
cipline, we sketch one now, only to show the charac- 
ter of his condition, and open a view of its miseries, 
and leave the reader to imagine what the full picture 
must be. Though Jarm might not have been fault-' 
less on this occasion, the measure and quality of the 
discipline he received will show his early training, 
and shed light upon his encouragement to fidelity 

It was in the fall of the year when the process of 
fattening the hogs was given to his charge. The 
corn was scattered in the ear upon the ground, which 
at this season was damp — ^and the place where they 
were last fed was often made muddy by the nuzzling 
of the swine after the last kernel of the meal. 

One rainy Sunday morning, Jarm proceeded to 
feed the hogs as usual ; , and judging, that the place 
where they were last fed was as fit a place to feed 

124 J. W. LOGUEN 

them as any — or not oaring whether it was or not— 
he poured down his corn upon that spot. The con- 
sequence was, it became dirty and muddy, aiid the 
animals fished for it under unfavorable circumstances. 
Manasseth, learning. the fact, fell into a frenzy of 
passion. lie seized the hominy pestle — a thick, sohd, 
heavy wooden instrument, used to pound the com in 
a mortar into hominy — -and rushed upon Jarm. He 
did not strike him transversely with the instrument, 
which would be comparatively harmless, but bolted 
the end of it against his head and knocked him 
down. Jarm attempted to rise, but Manasseth bunt- 
ed his head again with the pestle, and continued thus 
to bunt his head until he was helpless and insensible. 

Before his senses left him, Jarm thought from the 
repetition and heft of the blows, that the wretch in- 
tended to murder^him, and that he was in the act of 
dying when he became insensible to feeling. 

Jarm awoke from death, as it were, and found him- 
self, at evening, lying in the loom-room — ^his moth- 
er washing the blood from his head and face with 
cold water. The water restored his senses, but the 
pain in his head was so great, that he was nearly 
crazy, and he groaned sorrowfully. 

" Hush I", whispered his mother ; " don't groan I — 
your groans will make him mad, and he will come 
and kill you I" 

The sound of his mother's voice fell upon his ear 
like a drop of comfort upon an awakened sorrow. 
His head was covered with wounds — the blood flow- 
cd from lii.s curs, and mouth, and run upon liis 


fiioe and neck — ^but Cherry wiped it away and 
staunched it to the best of her ability. He could not 
repress his anguish — and his mother repeated most 
earnestly her prayer that he would not groan ; for 
that his groans would certainly bring on him again 
his mad master, and she feared he would kill him. 

"I'm almost dead now," said Jarm, "and I had 
rather die than suffer the pain I do I" 

" For my sake — for the sake of your poor mother 
— don't make a noise — don't* bring him on you again 
— ^he has been drinking, and he will certainly kill 

Though Manasseth did not make whiskey now, and 
though he and his wife were under a solemn compact 
to let it alone, and though they were in good' standing 
in the Church, they occasionally procured whiskey, 
and drank it and became partially intoxicated — ^but 
by no means as often and deeply so as before. But 
a small quantity of whiskey was needed to drive the 
malignant passions of Manasseth to the unfeeling ex- 
cesses which he had just perpetrated upon the body 
of his slave. There was no place for compassion or 
reason in his head or heart on such occasions ; and 
his unresisting and helpless bondsmen were exposed 
to his unbridled fiiry. Cherry was familiar with his 
symptoms, and by no means mistaken as to his pres- 
ent condition, or the effect of Jarm's groans upon his 
irascible nature. Therefore, she urged upon Jarm 
the utmost care nOt to disturb him by a groan — ^well 
knowing it would again irritate his hatred, anfl 
drive him to uncontrollable excesses. 

126 J. W. LOGUEN. 

For tlie sake of his mother, Jami suppressed his 
groans, thgugh they seemed the only relief to his 
almost intolerable pains. 

After the evening had set in, Manasseth eat his 
supper and called his femily and slaves aTound him 
for femily worship. Manasseth and his wife had 
been absent all day at the Sabbath meeting. The 
sacred time spent in holy worship should have suffic- 
ed to cool his passions, and fitted him for the prayer 
he wa3 about to make in the presence of his femily 
and slaves. 

It was dark and still as death in the room where 
Jarm lay — and Cherry, that her absence might not 
remind the tiger of her almost dying boy, retired to 
the praying circle. Of course it was compulsion, not 
choice, that led her there — and while Manasseth was 
reading his Bible lesson, her ear watched intent- 
ly in the direction of Jarm, to catch the least sound' 
that might proceed from him. 

Some considerable time elapsed — ^the chapter was 
finished, and the heartless monster was paraded on 
his knees before his family and high Heaven in 
mockery of prayer, and Cherry fondly hoped Jarm 
would live out the desecrated moments without a 
moan, when she knew Manasseth would retire, and 
the horrid stillness be succeeded by the usual motion 
and noise — ^under cover of which she might protect 
her son from the dreaded passions of her master. 

The room where Jarm lay was attached to the ne- 
gro house, a little distance from the habitation of 
Manasseth. Cherry, desirous to imprison his aching 


breath, had prudently closed the door upon him, and 
would have closed the only aperture through which 
light and air entered his room, had she the means to 
do it. 

Manasseth had but begun his form of prayer, amid 
the most perfect stillness — ^when Cherry fancied a 
sound floating on the brooding silence and indis- 
tinguishable therefrom, which awakened her auricular 
nerves to painful intenseness. Again, and again, and 
again, the sound came at intervals, with increasing 
distinctness, until it was certain it entered the ears of 
the praying man, and diverted his thoughts from God 
to the suffering boy in the negro house. His voice 
was choaked — ^and his words, at first indicating em- 
barrassment from distracting objects and contending 
emotions, were finally silenced by the overpowering 
devil within him, and he cut short the impious form- 
'ality with an abrupt " Amen." 

Hate is love perverted ; Hell^ the love of angels 
inverted. In the act of opening his bosom to the in- 
flux of divine affections, Manasseth suffered the 
tempter to interpose between himself and his Maker, 
and set him on fire of Hell. He rose from his knees, 
bloated and burning with infernal fires. Has anger 
against Jarm was swollen to a burning torrent, which 
rushed him in blind rage through the darkness to the 
negro house, and bounding into the room where Jarm 
lay, he muttered — 

"I'll make you grunt for something, you black 

128 J. W. LOGUBN. 

" Kill me, master, and put me out of pain I'* groan- 
ed the boy, at the same time. 

" That is what I intend to do," said his master, 
grinding his teeth with rage, as he kicked Jarm with 
all his force against his shoulders — and he continued 
to kick him, sometimes stamping his heel upon his 
head and breast — while Jarm, unable to evade the 
blows, only repeated his prayer, " Do kill me — do 
kill me!" — ^his voice growing fainter and fainter — 
when, suddenly, a flood of light filled the room, and 
the cry of "Fire! fire!" from many voices without, 
alarmed him. He sprang to the door, leaving the 
motionless and voiceless Jarm in his gore — the sight 
of which, by the terrific glare, stamped its horror on 
his memory as the Hell fires that produced it sank 
back to their source, and another fire, equally intense, 
broke out from the same source, to wit, the fire of 
mammon. "Fire! fire! fire!" he cned, as he saw 
the blazing column above the top of his house, on 
the opposite side, spreading sparks and cinders on 
the dark clouds, and showering them upon every 
thing that was inflammable about. 

Cherry, with a pail of water in her hand, stood 
most conspicuous, with two or three other negroes, a 
little distance from the fire, when her master came 
up. So soon as she saw him, she made one cry of 
" fire !" which arrested his notice, and brought him 
to her. 

"It is too late," said ManassSth; "don't waste 
your water, but watch the sparks, and see the house 
and barn don't take fire. Every one of you be ready 


with water, and keep your eye on the com and 
wheat Take care of that cloth," pointing to a large 
quantity of coarse cloth, which Cherry had herself 
mannfactured for the negroes' wear. 

Cherry handed her pail of water to one of the 
Btanders by, and ran to the cloth and filled her arms 
with it, and took it into the cloth room. The great- 
est confusion now prevailed. The whole fanuly, 
blacks and whites, were spread in different directions 
about the premises, watching the falling fire, and ex- 
tinguishing it when it fell in places to do damage, 
guided by their own discretion. 

Cherry's expedient worked to a charm. She was 
in agony for the life of her child. She knew that 
Manasseth, when he got up from his prayers, was an 
intoxicated madman, and that Jarm's life was no 
more safe than if a mad bear was springing upon 
him. Therefore, to divert his attention from Jarm, 
and to extinguish one passion by another, she set fire 
to a load of straw that lay on the opposite side of the 
house, to the intent, that, so soon as the storm which 
it would produce was up, she might hasten to Jarm 
and save his life. 

When she had deposited the cloth, she did not 
leave the room — ^which was light as day — ^but hasten- 
ed to her bruised and bleeding boy, who lay in his 
blood as still as a corpse. To her great joy, she found 
him yet alive, but in a state which greatly alarmed 
her. He could not speak, and was insensible to her 
attentions. Again she procured water and cleansed 
his wounds, ani took him to his bunk. After some 

180 J. W. LOGUBN. 

soothing attentions, his sensibility was partially re- 
stored, and. fancying his cruel master still with him, 
he whispered — 

"Kill me 1 kiUmel" 

" No, my son, you must not die — ^I am with yon, 
and you shall not die," said Cherry. 

The sweet sound of his mother's voice restored 
him, but so great was the pain in his head and body, 
that he was bereft of reason — ^and in spite of his 
mother's affectionate attentions, he raved like a mad- 
• " Kill me ! — do kill me I" was his loud cry. 

The attention of Manasaeth was too much engross- 
ed by the fire to think of Jarm, or hear his ravings, 
for a long time. It was late in the night before the 
fire was so far extinguished that it was safe to leave 
it Manasseth and his wife, children and servants 
watched the decaying embers and sparks, which the 
wind occasionally blew about — ^while Cherry, un- 
minded, watched her boy, and in vain strove to quiet 
him. At a late hour of the night, Manasseth, now 
perfectly rational,* approached his wife and began to 
enquire into the cause of the fire. 

"How do you suppose this fire came?" said Ma- 
nasseth to his wife. 

" It is the visitation of God." 

" Could it be possible that any of the negroes in* 
tentionally set this load of straw on fire ?" 

" If so, they did it as ministers of God," said his 

wife. " G«d is angry with us both, for breaking our 

- solemn compact to drink no more — and is especially 


aagiy at yon, for gettdiig diunk and beating Jaim as 
jou did — and he would not hear you piay, and aeaat 
Jarms groans to drive you firom your knees^ and 9eaa% 
the spark into this straw to divert you finom a mni^ 
der, which would have kindled a fire in your soul to 
bum forever!" 

" I believe it," said the repenting wretch. 

^' Hark I — ^what sound is that?" said Manasseth. 

ChOTy was greatly terrified when she could not 
prevent Jarm's loud ravings, and hoped her master 
would be so occupied as not to hear him untiil his 
(Manasseth's) reason was ftilly restored — ^when she 
hoped his interest, if not his compassion, would be 
awakened for Jarm. Sudi was the state of things in 
the negro house, when the ravings of the boy reach- 
ed the ears of his repenting master and mistress, as 
they stood by the fire and heard him cry, ^^KiU mel 
— do kill me /" &c. 

"My God !" said Manasseth, "it is Jarm still cry- 
ing * Kill me.' He thinks I am with him yet — ^the 
boy is crazy — where is Cherry ?" 

"I don't know." 

" I am boimd she is with him, Gk) in a hurry," 
said Manasseth, "and see how the case- stands; I 
can't go there. Take the remaining whiskey with 
you — ^it may be useful to heal the wounds it has 
made. I have almost killed him, I suppose. We 
cant afford to loose him — ^he is worth a good deal of 
money— go, quick ! T will stay here and try to make 
peace with God — ^for I verily believe he is angry 
with me." 

1S2 J. W. LOGUElf. 

A complete change had come over Manasseth. He 
was in deep concern for Jarm — ^the horrible impres- 
sion which the last sight of him made on his 
memory — ^the consciousness tnat he had been driven 
by intoxication to the verge of murder — that he had 
violated sacred pledges, and angered God by misusing 
the power which the law gave him over the person 
of his slave — ^in the light of the providence which 
spoke from the ashes aroimd him, and howled in his 
ears from the negro house — produced an overpower- 
ing reaction, cast him into the profoundest penitence, 
ana convulsed him with a tremor of excitement in 
the opposite direction. Most earnestly did the poor 
man beseech Heaven's mercy for himself, and help 
for Jarm. So great was his agony and concern, that 
he did not think of retiring to his bed, but waited 
for his wife's return, that he might learn how the 
case stood with Jarm. 

After a time, Mrs. Logue returned to her husband, 
and informed him that the boy was dangerously 
bruised and wounded, and insane by internal and ex- 
ternal pains-^and'that he must have a physician with- 
out delay, or they must loose him. 

With all possible expedition, Manasseth sent for 
the doctor. In the mean time. Cherry and her mis- 
tress watched the patient, and bathed his wounds 
with whiskey, and tried in vain to soothe and quiet 

The doctor found his patient in the condition be- 
fore described, and inmiediately took from him a 
large quantity of blood, gave him a soothing opiate, 


which quieted him, tfnd he fell into deep. Cherry 
and her mistress watched by his side imtQ morning. 

We will here close the details of this chapter in 
the slave's life. It is needless to specify the trials and 
watches on the part of his attendants, and the bodily 
and mental sufferings Jarm endured during a pro- 
tracted illness, before nature assimied her place and 
composed his frame to her undisturbed dominion. 
The moral effect of these transactions upon Man ass- 
eth and his wife was decisive — at least for a time. 
The following day -was celebrated by a new coven^t 
between themselves and their Maker, thus : — 

" It is just a year," said Manasseth to his wife, 
"since the'distUlery was burned." 

" Yes — ^and just a year next Wednesday," she re- 
plied, "since we made public profession, at the camp, 
that we were converted to Christ." 

" In the first place, we vowed we would drink no 
more whiskey, and in the second that we would be 
true to the Lord, who had mercy on us." 

" And most unmercifally have we broken both of 
those vows," said Mrs. Logue. 

" We made the first vow over the ashes of the dis- 
tillery, and the second at the camp," said Manasseth. 

" And now," said his wife, " we must renew them 
over these ashes, and confirm them at the camp on 

" Yes," said Manasseth, " and may the lord have 
mercy on our souls." 

" But the Lord will not have mercy on us if we 
don't have mercy on others." 

134 J. W. LOGUEK. 

"That ifl the yery thing this terrible lesson has 
taught me," said Manasseth. 

" What is mercy ?" 

•''I should have thought that a very simple ques- 
tion, but for that blessed tract which Joseph sent us 
some time ago, which, in my folly, I laid on the shelf 
for a more convenient season. I took it down and 
read it this morning, and found in it the very thing I 
needed," said Manasseth, 

" Does it tell what mercy is ?" 

^**Yes — and I will read the definition given. It 
struck me with great force — and it seems as if I had 
proof of its truthftdness constantly in my inmost 
soul, ^ince four o'clock this morning. 

Manasseth took up the tract and read as follows : — 

"Mercy is God in us — God is mercy itself and 
love itself, and goodness itself and they constitute 
his essence." 

" But if God is mercy only, how can he be just ?" 

" The Book answers the question thus : — 
" A poet hath said, * A God all mercy is a God un- 
just.' The sentiment is neither poetry nor philoso- 
phy. Justice is an ingredient of mercy, and cannot 
exist without it. A merciful being cannot but be just. 
Mercy seeks the good of others with all the light it 
has. Infinite mercy, therefore,is infinite wisdom and 
infinite justice. By separating wisdom and justice 
from goodness ana mercy, the truthless poet adopted 
the absurdity of a cotemporary and degenerate theolo- 
gy, which" dissects the indivisible God into three equal 
persons, and crucifies the good and merciful one to 
appease the anger of a just one. It was the infinite 
mercy that propogated himself on his own image aiiij 
lived among men in the peraon of Jesus Christ, whose 


inmost was Jeliovah or Father, and whose external 
derived from the mother, was the Son — ^who possessed 
all the infirmities and lusts of humanity without sin — 
because they were overcome by the Father and the 
God within, to whom the Son was conjoined when 
the conquest, called his glorification, was complete. 
Thus the child prayed to the fiither until he was 
merged in him and became one in spirit with him." 

"But if God is only love and mercy and goodness, 
why are not all saved ? — ^why is he angiy with us 
when we do wrong? — why do you become drunk 
and cruel ? — ^and why is Jarm beaten to a mummy, 
and left to groan in the negro house?" 

" Here your question is answered again," said Ma- 
nasseth, taking up the tract, and reading — 

" God is life itself. All men, animals and things 
derive their life by influx from him — ^the sourcefrom 
wliich all life proceeds every moment. Coming from 
him, it cannot be less pure than his own love, which 
is his life. It is the same yesterday, to-day, and for- 
ever. But man's freedom perverts it to selfish uses, 
and he thereby becomes a beast, and gives himself to 
the control of angry, sdfish, lustfiil and cruel pas- 
sions. It is man, not God, who changes. The latter 
loves alike the evil and the good. His sun and rain 
are shed alike on all. Good men receive his love in- 
to unperverted wills, and are like him. Bad men re- 
ceive it into perverted wills, and become satans and 
devils. Hence, it is obvious that God, being love it- 
self, loves his enemies, and cannot hate them, or be 
angry with them — ^for his word teaches that anger 
resteth in the bosoms of fools. And he further teach- 
es us to love our enemies ; and he would not prescribe 
a rule for us to live by which he did not ooey him- 
self. Men are led by their ruling loves to Heaven 
and Hell. Hell is a condition of perverted love, and 

136 .-te . J. w. hoavKS. 

w ■ 

men progress into it, not because God puts them in 
it — ^but because they love its horrible evils, and 
choose to go into it in opposition to his love." 

" O, how truly that pictures my case ! I, not God, 
was angry. Yes, I was in Hell yesterday — ^and all 
these evils are the result. I bless Gk)d that I am a 
changed man, and that he has not changed — ^that he 
loved me when I was angry and murderous — ^and 
now I pledge myself never again to drink a drop of 
liquor, and to love and obey my Savior. Will you 
join in the pledge?" 

His wife made the same pledge. 

Poor creatures 1 They had not begun to compre- 
hend the depths of their selfishness, much less to look 
it in the face and overcome it. Conscience, which 
is the touch of God's finger within, had called 
their attention to evils they had eyes* to see — ^but 
could not alarm them by the sight of still greater 
evils to which they were blind. They had not be- 
gun to think that their slaves were equally entitled to 
life, liberty and happiness with themselves — and that 
by holding them in slavery, they cherished in their 
hearts the complex of all evils, which must break 
forth in varied forms of evil life, and torture them 
with infernal fires, which all the love, and wisdom, 
and power of God, without- their repentance, could 
not quench. 



During the year succeeding the events of the last 
diapter, Manasseth and his wife were measurably 
true to their agreement to abstain from liquor. Their 
attention to the forms of religion were regular, their 
habits generally natural and stable, and life on the 
plantation was as endurable as its inverted order 
would allow. He was a hard man in his best states, 
but the slaves might now anticipate their treatment, 
and regulate*t];ieir conduct by his usual and known 
temper and life. The curse of their condition was 
more than half relieved by being disburthened of un- 
certainties. Jarm was treated with special indul- 
gence, and he grew to man's strength, and became his 
master's most trusty and reliable sl&ve. 

Alas for the frailty of humanity ! As the year 
was drawing to a close, Manasseth and his wife oc- 
casionally yielded to the liquor demon, and they and 
their servants were in danger of sinking to their 
former state and habits. Those occasions were not 
frequent, however, and their dependents, most of 
the time, were in the hands of a surly, selfish man, 
instead of a drunken beast. 

Cherry, nor Jarm, however, during this period, suf- 
fered special injustice from his harsh temper. In- 
deed, the outrage upon Jarm, detailed in the last 

1S8= • J. W. LOGUEN. 

chapter, wrought a change in his conduct towards 
him. He not only refrained from abusing him, but 
allowed him privileges and favors, as a sort of atone- 
ment for the murderous outrage. Now, for the first 
time, he had a hat and shoes, and a Sunday suit — 
which he was allowed to earn by extra labor and 
small trafficking on his own account Verging on man- 
hood, with a fine person and social temperament, he 
begun to feel the pride of youth, and indulge his so- 
cial propensities with young companions, of both 
sexes, in the neighborhood. 

Though depressed and degraded beyond measure, 
the social instincts of the slave cannot be subdued 
short of the destruction of his ability and usefulness. 
Therefore, opportunities of social enjoyment, under 
harsh restrictions, are allowed from necessity. Of 
course such enjoyments, though eminently social and 
affectional, are, as a general thing, merely animal. 
The slave's education is the remains of destorted na- 
ture left to sensual indxdgence, and farthest remov- 
ed from mental or moral culture. Slavery cannot 
extinguish the affectional qualities Grod implanted in 
the African's bosom — ^though it crushes his intellect " 
and robs him of moral motive. In the circles of 
rustic gaiety, for a brief hour, the negro dismisses 
sorrow — and though he emulates the civilities of the 
whites, he has no motive to regulate the indulgence 
which nature prompts and tyranny solicits. It is 
rare that the male or female slave seeks a higher 
level of chastity and purity than their masters. But 
iiotwiibstaudiiig those virtues are sins in slave hfe^ 

jabm's morals. 13^ 

there are instances in which they are cherished in 
spite of education. In the slave's bosom, God's 
voice is not always so hushed, that its demands are 
disobeyed in respect to domestic relations. It is not 
possible, if it were profitable, for slavery to reduce 
the blacks to the level of the animal heids — ^and it is 
forced, therefore, by policy and economy, to obey the 
plan of Providence and sanction a distorted relation 
of husband and wife. 

Jarm had now arrived at that period when the on- 
ly personal freedom allowed a slave is to debase his 
spirit by demoralizing instincts. Bereft of all other 
gratifications, he would doubtless have plimged to 
the bottom of the abyss, but JFor causes to be devel- 
oped. For the last eight years he had not listened 
to words of kindness, friendship or compassion from 
-a white man or woman, and was forced to regard 
them as enemies. His hopes had been crushed in 
every direction. On the verge of manhood he stood 
on the brink of moral desolation. But an event oc- 
curred at this time, which set him right, and rescued 
him from danger. 

The season of the year came around, again, when 
it was convenient for the slave owners to attend to 
religion. The fall fruits were harvested, and the im- 
mortal camp-ground was to swarm again with wor- 
shippers. It was fitted up with cabins great and 
small to receive them. Free negroes and poor whites, 
as well as slaves, had prepared their booths, and fill- 
ed them with meats, and melons, and fruits, and 
liquors for the occasion. The poor whites and free 

140 J. W. LOGUEN. 

blacks ever look forward to it as a market for the Sur- 
plus products of the little patches of land which they 
hold by lease or in fee, that they may have means to 
keep their families through the winter. The slaves 
look to it as a market for the products of like patch- 
es, which some of them improve, by the will of their 
masters, to get them extra clothing and comforts. 

Jarm was on his way to the camp, in his best at-' 
tire. It was one of those beautiful autumnal morn- 
ings, in Tennessee, when the spiritual world reposes 
on the surface of external nature, and gives an etherial 
impression to each sound and scene — which sur- 
rounds the soul with a mysterious aura, and infils it 
with a'tranquillness which forgets earth. He was 
alone, and precisely in that state when the mind turns 
from objects without to imdying thoughts and things 
and forms which open upon the spiritual senses in 
the vast world within him, where the kingdom of 
God is. 

Little did the poor slave think — ^little do the rich 
and wise and learned think — (pardon the digression) 
— ^that they live in two worlds — ^the external and the 
internal — ^the natural and the spiritual; and the only 
reason they do not recognize the latter as real and. 
more substantial than the former, is, because they 
have fallen from the spiritual state in which God 
placed them, into a sensualism that acknowledges 
nothing real that does not respond to bodily senses. 
Little do they think that their spiritual senses sleep, 
to wake when they merge from their bodies among 
the ever living thoughts and objects and forms which 


tliey now regard as visionary things. Little do tliey 
think that the flowers and fields, animals, birds and 
insects, and all material things, are external forms of 
the thoughts and affections that devised and projected 
them — and ihat they will remain in the atmosphere of 
thought and affection, and their significance be 
' studied as the word of God, and their qualities loath- 
ed or loved, as they correspond to things of Heaven 
or Hell after time^ and space are forgotten. All un- 
known to himself, Jarm was in that world where the 
despot's arm cannot reach, and where the free soul is 
left to its own imdisputed wanderings. 

He. had scarce entered the border of the woods 
which encompass the camp ground, and was out of 
sight of the cleared land in the rear, when he heard 
happy voices and sounds of horses feet behind him 
He inferred that a cheerful party was approaching, 
on their way to the great gathering. The voices 
harmonized with the silence of the forest and his 
own emotions. 

He stopped a moment, to look and listen, and a 
lady on horse-back appeared at the bend of the path, 
a few rods behind him — ^while the voices of her com- 
panions indicated they were not far off. She was 
travelling on a slow gallop, evidently exhilarated by 
the exercise, and the soft breeze that swept the locks 
from her forehead and exposed a beautiful face. She 
was of the superior race, and of course out of the 
reach of Jarm's aspirations—^nevertheless, he thought 
her the most beautiful person he had ever seen. To 
appearance, she was about eighteen years of age, 

142 J. W. LOOtTfiK. 

of gracefal and ftdl pToportipns, and rode her horse 
— of which she had perfect control— like a queen. 

Jarm stopped only long enough to dagaerreotype 
the delightful vision upon his memory, and then pass* 
ed along. In a moment she was by his side, and the 
slave boy with a more willing heart than ever before, 
raised his hat, slave fashion, to the charming appa- 
rition. She checked her horse into a walk, and in a 
sweet voice, which was evidently natural, compas- 
sionate and harmonious with every expression of hef 
face, enquired:— 

" Are you going to the camp meeting ?" 

" Yes, madam." 

" How far is the ground from here?" 

" About half a mile, madam." 

" I will be there in four minutes," said the girl— - 
and she applied the whip to her spirited horsci 

At the second bound, the animal made an unusual 
effort to overleap a gulch in the path, and the girth 
of the saddle broke by the swell of his strong mus* 
cles. The girl felt the breach, and a terrible sense of 
danger drove the color from her cheeks. With a 
convulsive effort she pulled the reins upon the bound* 
ing animal, and checked him^ — ^but a motion trans* 
verse the centre of gravity slid his body from under 
her, and she fell, screaming with fright, into the 
arms of Jarm — who, quick as lightning, sprang for 
her security. Disburthened of his load, the horse 
passed on a few paces, and commenced browsing the 
bushes— while the fainting girl, unable to stand, clung 
convulsively to the bosom of her dcUvercr, and was 


borne to a small bank by tlic road side, wbence issued 
a spring, whose waters, in crossing the path, occasion* 
ed the mistiap. 

With all delicacy Jarm laid his precious burden 
<tti the bank, and remembering, from his own expe*. 
rience, the beneficence of water in such cases, dipped 
his hand into the cold, pure element, and sprinkled 
it upon her fiice* The beautiful girl instantly recov* 
ed, and turned her large blue eyes upon him, with an 
expression of unmistakable thankfulness. By this 
time the other portion of the company came up, and 
the dilemma and the denouement were told them by 
the artless girl, emphasizing the part Jarm had taken 
in the transaction, as worthy of something more than 
thanks, which she expressed with evident sincerity 
and generous simplicity. 

It was. a company of two brothers and three sis 
ters, some older and some younger than Jarm, but 
not far from his age^ — who were on their way to the 
meeting. After they were informed of the facts, 
they warmly seized Jarm*s hands, ladies and gentle* 
men alike, and overwhelmed him with kind emotions, 
which were as visible as their lips and faces. Be* 
Bides, they contributed from their limited purses two 
dollars in cash, which they said was a trifle far be* 
low his deserts — and begged him to take it, with the 
assurance that they would gladly give more, if they 
were prepared to do it 

Jarm was thoroughly confounded by the natural* 
ness, frankness, familiarity, kindness and humanity 
of their uncorrupted and loving hearts. They trea^ 

144 J. W. LOG TEN. 

ed him as if they had no suspicion of dilBFerence of 
caste and color, and made him feel that he was on 
the level of friendship and brotherhood with them. 
It was the first time in his life that he had seen the 
sun in that direction. So unlike anything before 
seen was this company of broj^rs and sisters — ^so 
unadulterated were they by vulgar and corrupting 
habitudes and passions, that tliey seemed more like 
angels than like men and women. Poor and needy 
as he was, the money they offered him — ^which in his 
sight was a large sum — ^bore no comparison in value 
to the soul treasures they emptied from their over- 
flowing bosoms into his. In spite of all efforts to 
suppress it, the fountain within him broke and dash- 
ed its waters on his eye-lids. 

Jarm accepted the money, and the parties separa- 
rated, with mutual and undying good will. But the 
moral of this transaction lives to-day in Jarm. The 
innocence, purity, sincerity, kindness, justice and 
charity so transparent in his new acquaintances, im- 
pregnated the germ of his being, and it budded and 
swelled upwardg — and aided by events hereafter re- 
lated, gradually uplifted the cold and massive rock 
which lay upon it, and rolled it away — and broke in- 
to the free air and sun light. His life and character 
are much indebted to this transaction and its se- 

Jarm soon arrived at the exterior of the camp, 
among the rude saloons where refreshments are sold 
by poor whites and free blacks and privileged slaves, 
to the mixed multitude. He was in the-midst of tlio 


crowd of eaters, drinkers, gamblers, prostitutes and 
rowdies of every class, who swarm around these pla- 
ces. The most rude and lawless of the male portion 
of this motely mass, are the scions of the large pro- 
prietors in the neighborhood, who are the oligarchs 
of these ecclesiastical purlieus. Next to them in in- 
fluence and power are the petty slave merchants — 
backed, as Ihey are, by their masters, whose interest 
is to make the slave feel that his condition is prefera- 
ble to that of a free black or poor white man. The 
firee blacks and poor whites are the lowest grade of 
society in a slave State — and if either has advantage 
over the other, it is so trifling, and the grade of both 
so contemptible, as to be unworthy of notice. 

" Glad you have come, Jarm," said a stout, fat and 
sleek negro, who thrust his arm through the ever- 
green boughs that surrounded a space of a rod of 
land, enclosed on all sides but one, and plentifully 
stored with melons, whiskey, &c. 

" What do you want of me ?" said Jarm. 
" I want to get rid of that black nigger there. His 
stores are larger and better than mine, and he takes 
all my custom." 

" Well, how do you expect to get rid of him ?" 
" I am determined he shall be driven off." 
" What have I got to do in the matter ?" 
" I mean to set the young Massas on him — ^and 
what I want you to do is, to speak to Massa James, 
and get him to put Massa Charles and others upon 
the black rascal, and break him up." 

Jeimes was a rowdy .sprig of Manasseth, and ripe 

146 i. w. LoatTEX. 

for a scrape of that kind. But Jarm was not in £l 
state to entertain sucli a subject. He immediately te* 
plied : — 

"I shall do no such thing. That is Jacob, the 
free negro that occupies the little patch near Col. 
Pillow^s plantation. I know him well— he is a clever 
fellow — and I shall lend my hand to no such thing.*' 

" What business has the poor devil to come and 
pile up his melons by my side, as if he was some* 
body ? Such poor scamps should keep a respectful 
distance, and not crowd among gentlemen— it is an 
insult, and he shall budge P' 

"Isaac," said Jarm, firmly and sorrowfully, "I 
shall do nothing to disturb that poor man. He has 
spent the. summer to gather those stores from his lit- 
tle patch of land, and depends on their sale to take 
bis family through the winter. It will be very cruel 
to disturb him— you must not do it. You have no- 
body to provide for, and are better off than he is— 
why, then, disturb him ? I want you should let him 
alone to sell his things." 

" By Gippers 1 — -I'U rout him," said Isaac. " Poor 
folks have no business here. There comes Massa 
James, Massa Charles, &c. — -VVl set them on to him — 
they will want no better fim than to use up his 

Massa James, Charles and two or three others now 
reeled into the enclosure. Isaac immediately entered 
into a low conversation with them, and Jarm saw 
they were already sufficiently liquored for a cruel 
frolic* Itavin^ finished their low talk, thoy poured 


each a glass of wliiskey ana, and with flush- 
ed feces, started for the poor colored man's booth. 

" He'll catch it," said Isaac, looking significaotly 
at Jann. 

" It is mean," said Jann, '* and you ought to be 
ashamed to ipjure that poor man." 

Slaveholders, especially those of this stamp and in 
this condition, are always mad when they have a 
mind to be. The rowdies bounded into the poor 
man's booth, seemingly in a rage, exclaiming : — 

"What are you doing here, you d d black 


" ni learn you to be civil to gentlemen !" &c., &o. 

" In such like language each of the rowdies ad- 
dressed the poor fellow, who was astonished by their 
fierceness — ^and in the humblest manner plead his in- 
nocence of any wrong or intention of wrong — and 
begged them to say what he had done to offend them 
or any one else. But such as they, when they pro- 
pose to teach a free negro that he is beneath their 
slaves, don't wait to hear his supplications. One of 
them began to pommel him over the head and shoul- 
ders with a stick , and the others to kick and stamp 
upon his melons — the negro begging all the while — 

" Pray, Massa — ^Pray Maasa I" 

In two minutes the poor fellow's fine melons, bot- 
tles and liquors were all destroyed, and his booth 
prostrated — and the gallant oUigarchs turned away, 

148 Jr W. LOOUEN. 

" Clear out, now, you black rascal — ^and don't be 
seen about here again 1" 

The poor fellow stood a moment, looking upon the 
ruin of his hopes and labors — ^with his eyes downcast, 
he seemed the picture of desolation. The large 
tears started into his eyes— and he turned and wiped 
them away, and retired. Jarm was deeply grieved 
at this injustice,, and was about to proceed after the 
poor fellow and attempt to comfort hiTxi — ^when he 
felt a tap upon his shoulder. He turned, and saw 
his master at a cane's length fix)m him, in the crowd, 

" I want to see you," said Manasseth, " Follow 
me." - 

Jarm followed his master from the crowd, and 
then his master said to him : — 

" I want you to return home immediately." 

" Won't you let me stay here until evening, mas- 
sa?" said Jarm, anxiously — ^greatly disappointed by 
such a command. 

" Don't make any words — ^go directly home, I say. 
I shall be there in the evening, and tell you why^ 
I can't talk about it now." ' ^ 

"The villainy perpetrated upon Jacob, and Jarm's 
pity and resentment thereat, inmiediately sank in his 
disappointment — and he turned sadly in obedience to 
his master, and retraced his steps to the Tombigbee. 
He was grievously downcast. He had reckoned 
much upon seeing his new acquaintances at the<5amp, 
and could not relinquish the idea without regret — 
which was aggravated by the fear that this strange 
order of -his master boded some new calamity. 



Jann was in pamful suspense tmtil the intent of 
his master .was explained — ^nor did the explanation 
•set him at rest. There was nobody at home when he 
arrived there, to sympathise with him. Cherry, and 
all hands but his mistress and the children, were ab- 
sent. On the way home, the burden on his mind an- 
nihilated space and time — ^but there was nothing to 
kill time after he got there, and the moments were 
wofully long. He could not relieve himself of the 
thought that something bad was to happen to him. 

At last his master came, and Cherry also. Imme- 
diately his master told him to make ready to go the 

next morning to live with Mr. . (He shall be 

nameless noW.) The order was given with the indif- 
ference that he would order him to feed the hogs. 

" Am I sold to Mr. ?" said Jarm. 

" No — ^you will work for him until I call for you." 

" T\Tiere does Mr. live ?" 

" About fifteen miles firom here. Put on your best 
clothes, do up your duds, and come to me in the 
morning — and I will direct you on the road." 

As a general truth, there is no confidence between 
master and slave in any matter relating to his sale. 
The slave knows, as weU as the contractors, that they 

160 J. W. LOGUEN. 

are controlled by money considerations, as certainly 
as if they were dealing in hogs or horses. K there 
are exceptions to the rule, Manasseth Logue was the 
last man to vary from his interest in the matter of 
selling, mortgaging or hiring a slave, and Jarm knew 
it. Hence, any assurance he might give in the case, 
could not quiet Jarm's anxiety, which was intense. 

Bound to such a wretch, it might be supposed he 
would be willing to risk the consequence of an ex- 
change of masters, upon the presumption that he 
would not fall into worse hands. Put Jarm had no 
experience of other hands. He esteemed all slave- 
holders unjust and cruel, and did not suppose a white 
person could entertain a fellow feeling for a coloied 
man, until he came upon his white friends in the last 
chapter — and those he considered exceptions among 
the entire race. Besides, he had always lived with 
his mother, brothers and sisters, and was bound to 
them by the strongest love. The African is the most 
affectional of all God's creatures, land the slave the 
most aflfectional of that affectional race — ^for the rea- 
son that the love of kindred is the only indulgence 
spared him^ — ^and that is spared only because slavery 
cannot take it away. It is a great annoyance. Ma- 
nasseth's command to* prepare to leave his mother, 
brothers, sisters and companions, and go he knew not 
where, touched Jarm where he was most sensitive — 
•and he went aside and wept like a child ; and his 
mother, brothers, sisters and companions came and 
wept with him. They feared a trick to get him away 
from them into a trap, where he might be seized and 


missed at three o'clock to day, and we were obliged 
to return to help our fether and mother, who left on 
important business yesterday morning before we ar- 
rived — ^we gave up all hope of seeing you^ and are 
most happy now to find you here. But how came 
you here — and where are you going ?" 

"I am going to Mr. 's, about five miles 

from here, to work a time for him." 

"What!" exclaimed aU of them. 

"Here is the pass my master gave me," said Jarm, 
putting it in the hand of one of the company. " He 
gave me this pass, and directed me to go to the house 

of Mr. ^ and work for him until he called for 

me — and as I did not know the way from this spot, 
he directed me to make inquiries of whosoever I 
should meet after I crossed this place, and they would 
direct me — and I shall be pleased if you will tell me 
the way." 

They all exclaimed at a time, " Mr. is my 

father, and you are going to our house I — ^how happy 
we shall be 1" 

Jarm was • confounded, and for a moment silent, 
then he inquired: — 

" Have you any colored people at your plantation ?" 

'" None," said one of the young men. " Our father 
and mother work themselves, and we work. With 
the help of the sons and occasional hired help, father 
does all the field work — and with the help of her 
daughters, our mother does all the house work. Wo 
have nobody to attend to but ourselves, and have 
plenty of time for study and amusement We are 

156 J. W. LOGUEX. 

very glad if you are to live with us. If you are as 
good as we believe you to be, we will share and share 
alike in our labors and pleasures. But how come it 
about ? — ^let us hasten home and find out about it." 

■ Jarm knew not what to say in such unusual cir- 
cumstances. Nor did he say or do anything. He 
stood confounded, thrilled and mute. Overjoyed at 
tlie turn of things, he dared not give expression to 
his feelings. He yielded passively to the circumstan- 
ces, and was translated as in a dream of delight to the 
plantation of Mr. Preston. ' 

Hitherto \ve have left a blank for the name of the 
gentleman to whom Jarm was consigned. We have 
filled the blank with a fictitious name. The reason 
for so doing is, the persons are real persons, and the 
transactions to be related, however fabulous they may 
look to the reader, are true in substance and matter 
of fact. 

For aught that is known, all the parties are now 
living. They were the kindest and best people Jarm 
ever found anywhere. The parents he loved as his 
parents — the brothers as his brothers — ^two of the sis- 
ters as his sisters, and the other he loved better than 
a sister. Public opinion at the North nor at the South 
would sanction the intimacy, femiliarity and affection 
which grew up between Jarm and Alice, (the girl 
Jarm saved from falling,)-H3haste and dehcate and 
refined as an angel's love, and known and approved 
by her brothers and sisters though they were. It is 
because this record may be read by their friends 
and acquaintances — ^and we sincerely hope it may — 


that we withhold their real names — ^that their gener- 
ous and noble natures may not suffer from the distor- 
ted public opinion of the country. Nor would these 
delicate secrets be spoken at all, but to illustrate the 
respect to color in a slave land — and for the still 
more important reason, that the intimacy, familiarity 
and affection that grew up between these young peo- 
ple, and especially between. Jarm and the beautiful 
Alice, cultivated his self-respect — ^brought forth the 
manly qualities of his nature — overca-me every ten- 
dency to gross indulgence — ^brought him into love 
with virtue, chastity, purity and religion — refined his 
manners — elevated his aspirations, and armed him 
for the unseen trials and conflicts that were before 

We name these young persons John, Charles, Su- 
san, Alice and Charlotte Preston. On their return, 
they took a path transverse the one which entered 
the forest, and thus undeceived Jarm as to the direc- 
tion of their habitation. 

"Here is a singular case," said Alice to her fiither 
on their arrival. This stranger met me in the woods, 
and saved my neck from being broke — and you, 
without knowing the fact, immediately take him home 
to be one of tjie family." • 

"What!" said Mr. Preston. 

Alice then related to her father and mother her 
peril in the forest, and the service rendered by Jarm 
on the occasion, together with the particulars that 

The affections of the father kindled at the recital — 

158 J. W. LOGUEN; 

ho embraced his daughter fondly, and stretched out 
his hand to Jarm. 

" Welcome, my good fellow," said he. " I little 
tnought I was providing for the deliverer of niy child 
when I took a conditional assignment of you, yester- 
day, from your master." 

Jarm bashfully and awkwardly yielded his hand to 
the warm and hearty grasp of his new master. He 
was quite unprepared for it, and knew not how to 
behave. The act was in tone with the treatment 
from the children — and though he shrank from the 
familiarity — ^its earnestness, sincerity and kindness 
thrilled through his nerves. 

Each of the young persons now took part in the 
conversation in lively terms — giving some fact or 
feeling they wished to express — while Jarm stood a 
silent, confused, awkward and delighted ILstener. 

Mr. Preston was a red haired gentleman, of mid- 
dling stature, and about fifty years of age. His frame 
was strong and healthy, his forehead high, his com- 
plexion light, his eye mild, bright and searching, and 
his countenance marked with sincerity, kindness, 
mental activity and energy. His appearance and ad- 
dress convinced the stranger at once that he valued 
public opinion only in subordination to principle — 
and though his temperament was ardent and active, 
he was little influenced by the fashion of society 
around him. 

Mrs. Preston, also, might be taken for about forty- 
five years of age, of dark-brown hair and face, of 
robust habit — ^gentle, afiectionate and confiding, and 



evidently marked with the simplicity of a comitry 
life which carefiilly avoided a mixture with the world. 

These people made their own society, educated 
their own children, and did their own work. Their 
religion was as peculiar as other things about them. 
They were educated Methodists, and attended Metho- 
dist meetings — ^nevertheless, their opinions and lives 
were quite independent of sects and creeds. Their 
domestic and social habitudes, as well as their labors 
and aims, were evidently obedient to interior forces 
that the people around them knew nothing abput, and 
cared not to know. The centre and circumference, 
and every part of their religious philosophy, was use, 
— ^use to others, and use to self for the benefit of 
others, was the beginning and end of their creed. 

"God's kingdom," said Mr. Preston, "is a king- 
dom of uses, and is spiritual — ^that is, it is within us, 
— in the affections, the imderstanding, and the will. 
The human body, as a whole, corresponds with it as 
a whole — and the parts of the body to all the parts 
of that kingdom. Each part of the latter, like the 
parts of the body, works for every other part. The 
brain labors for the foot, and the foot for the brain — 
and each part for every other part, in perfect obedi- 
ence to the law of heaven, * Thou shalt love thy 
neighbor as thyself.' Every muscle and part of the 
body (which is an image of God's body,) is perform- 
ing uses for its neighboring muscles arid parts. And 
so every inhabitant of Heaven, which is but a muscle 
thereof* and every society of Heaven, which is but .a 
combination of muscles thereof work, not for them- 

160 J. W. LOQUEN. 

selves, but for every other person and society in con- 
formity to the aforesaid law of charity. That law is 
the basis principle on which all nature and all Heav- 
en reposes — ^the law of all laws — ^the soul of God's 
•government of both Heaven and Hell. If you 
wound your flesh, Grod within, is in instant effort 
to heal the wound. If you wound your spiritual 
body by sin, he is in instant effort to accelerate re- 
pentance, or a return to the law of charity, which is 
its only cure. Grod is love, and he works by love in 
Hell as in Heaven. He loves his enemies, and it is 
this principle which makes enemies neighbors, and 
works for their godd — ^that keeps in motion and life 
the material and spiritual universe." 

Suchr a man, of course, yielded nothing to the 
claims of slavery, and only. conformed to its exter- 
nals, to such extent, as was consistent with his resi- 
dence in a neighborhood of slave-holders. Of course 
there was no negro house on his plantation ; but the 
family residence, though made of logs,, seemed to 
Jarm a palace; for as yet he had seen only log 
houses. The number, convenience and neatness of 
the rooms and furniture, plain as they would appear 
to him now, surpassed* his then conceptions of archi- 
tectural excellence and provision for family comfort 
It was surrounded with a green court yard, which 
was enclosed, and separated fix)m a garden in the rear 
by a neat picket, and ornamented with flowers and 
choice shrubbery and fancy and firuit trees. 

" All for use," said Mr. Preston. " I would have 
nothing in my house, or on the heritage my Heavenly 

MB. Preston's house and fabx. 101 

Father gives me that is not useful. The useful only 
is beautiful So it is in Crod's great home and do- 
main, and our affections should copy their features 
and provisions in the little world we make for our- 
selves. What is useful represents charity to the 
neighbor, and is a correspondence of Heaven, What 
is not useful, represents seU^ and is a correspondence 
of HeU." 

We are particular to give the character of this 
man, his family and possessions, because, among them 
Jarm's thoughts and affections first felt genial influ- 
ences, and began to take on a new life. 

As near as he can judge, there were about sixty 
acres of cleared land in Mr. Preston's ferm, surroun- 
ded by an imbroken forest. How much of that for- 
est belonged to it he knows not In approaching tihie 
messuage for a quarter of a mile, it seemed to liirn 
that he was leaving cultivated fields in the rear, and 
going into the bowels of the wilderness. The sun 
was completely intercepted by the frost-bitten foliage 
which shed its cold shadow on his track. The farm 
was a sunny spot in the dark woods. It broke upon 
his view like the light of the morning, when one 
awakes from sleep. The contrast of light and shade 
was more than equalled by the contrast of the indus- 
trial picture before him with that he left behind. 
The fields were perfectly and neatly cleared and 
fenced — ^the pastures and meadows green and beauti- 
ful, and finely stocked — ^the orchards of apples and 
peaches, some of which still hxmg on the branches, 
were a treat to the eye as the fruit was to the taste. 

X6a J. W. LOGUEN. 

Nothing was neglected — everything cared for and 
truly spoke of use. 

To his companions, these beautiful surroundings 
awoke the sensation of home scenes only — but they 
came upon Jarm's 3oul like a vision of paradise, and 
he could not help whispering to himself—" O that my 
mother, brothers and sisters might live here with me 
and these good people forever I"| 


Jarm's arrival at Mr. Preston's was beginning a 
a new life to him. All the time he lived with Ma- 
nasseth, he had been driven along from day to day 
by dread of physical suffering, and the hope of es- 
cape from it His affections were not allowed a mo-' 
ment's repose. It was ever a fearful looking for of 
outrage of some kind, atteudeS. by ^,n impracticable 
determination not to bear it. His highest aim was to 
dodge the lash of a tyrant — his daily prayer, that his 
mother, sisters and brothers might not be subjects of 
new wrongs. So habited was he to wrongs, that he 
met them without disappointment, and endured them 
without complaint. Steadily looking for an oppor- 
tunity " to stake his life on any point to mend it or 


git rid on 't " — ^without an eflfbrt on his part the scene 
was changed, and his affections found a home. Kind 
hearts and smiling fiaces greeted him in the morning, 
met him at noon, and blessed him at night. 

" Your name is Jarm ?" said Mr. Preston. 

" Yes, master." 

"You must not call me * master '-—call me Mr. 
Preston. Well, you have come to labor with me a 
spell — ^I don't know hOw long. If you do well, you 
will live as well as the rest of us. I hope and believe 
we shall like you. We shall have to show a defer- 
ence to the habits of the country. I never owned 
slaves, though I occasionally hire them. You will 
have a table in the same room with us, where you 
will take your meals ; but you must go to work and 
make your own house to live in. Your table will be 
as well provisioned as ours, and the goodness of your 
house will depend on yotir taste, skill and desire. Do 
you know how to make a log house ?" 

"Yes, master." 

"You call me 'master,' again. I am no man's 
master — ^you forget Well, you shall have a team 
and all necessary implements and help — ^but you will 
do the hewing, chopping and fitting, alone. Remem- 
ber it is for yourself alone — find yet it will be well 
to make it sufficiently large for two or three others. 
While suiting present use, it is well to regard future 
convenience. You are used to team and tools, of 
■ course ?" 

" yes, sir." 

" Here is the place for your house, and yonder the 

164 J« W. LOGUEN. 

oxen — ^you will find tools in the bam. Your first 
business is to build this house. Being at work for 
yourself you will need no overseer — ^and now come 
to breakfast." 

This conversation occurred on the morning after 
Jarm's arrival. The remark about his being his own 
overseer, was said with a significant smile, as Mr. 
Preston turned and walked to the house, and Jarm 
followed him. 

Jarm found a small table set for himself apart 
from the family table, in the same room. It was cov- 
ered with linen white as snow, on which was a plate, 
knife and fork, coflfee cup and saucer, milk and sugar. 

"You will sit here," said Mrs. Preston, addressing 
Jarm with a pleasant smile, and placing her finger on 
the little table at the same time. 

The fiimily placed themselves, around the large ta- 
ble, and Jarm sat down at the little one. They then 
bowed their heads while the father repeated a brief 
prayer, of which the Lord's prayer was much the 
largest part. When the prayer was concluded, the 
two oldest young ladies brought the bacon and pota- 
toes and coffee to the table, and at the same time di- 
vided a portion to Jarm from the main dishes, and 
poured out his coffee. 

There were no little ones in this family. All were 
old enough to take a part. in its sociables. Indeed, 
their religion cultivated the social as the mean? of 
ultimating good affections. The shadows which pop- 
ular religion too' often shed on the innocent enjoy- 
ments which come up spontaneously in the path of 


life, were never seen by them. According to Mr. 
Preston, men build their own life, and he taught hi« 
children that the life they loved at death, they would 
always delight in. K it was bad, Grod would never 
interfere with it, only as he now does to prevent in- 
jury to others — ^that God's providence and govern- 
ment in the spiritual, were the same as in the natural 
world. " Men change their states," said he. " God 
and his laws never change, in this world, or in that" 

Educated as Jarm was, his condition was very em- 
barrassing. He had been taught, in the severest 
school, that he was a thing for others' uses, and that 
he must bend his head, body and mind in conformity 
to that idea, in the presence of a superior race — and 
that it was treason to aspire to the condition he was 
then in. Of course he never believed in anything of 
the sort, but he supposed white people did. Wheth- 
er they did or did not, it was all the same — ^for they 
ever acted upon that absurdity, and he was compelled 
to shape his life to it. Therefore, he knew not how 
to act in this new condition. He would have been 
glad to slink away with his breakfast to a private 
place, that he might eat it out of sight of. those kind 
people. Hungry as he was, he hardly knew how to 
eat in such circumstances. 

"Take hold, my boy,'Vsaid Mr. Preston. "You 
have a job that requires strength, and you will be 
good for little if you don't eat A man's breakfast 
is a part of his day's work — and if he don't do that 
up well, he will be likely to come shoij; in the other 

166 s. w. LoatTBir. 

parts. Itemember, you are at work for yourself to 
day, and you bad best make a good beginning." 

Jarm received the words as a command, and com* 
menced eating. The charm being broke, he lost his 
reserve in the conversation of the family, who he 
supposed were occupied with themselves alone, and 
he ate heartily. His inference was precisely what 
their '■kindness designed — ^but so soon as he had fin- 
ished his coffee, Alice was by his side filling up an- 
other cup — a fact which showed that their seeming 
inattention was a benevolent regard to his embar- 
rassment, and that he had been really kindly watch- 
ed. Thus he found that instead of being a waiter 
upon the family, they were in fact waiting upon him. 
This inversion of the rule of his life did not please 
him — but there was- no help for it for the present. 

Mr. Preston was a plain man, and in common ac- 
ceptation, uneducated. Yet a stranger hearing'^him 
converse, might esteem him learned, and on some 
abstruse subjects — and particularly the philosophy of 
religion — class him with the profound in wisdom and 
science. He had but few books, and they treated 
mainly of such matters, and he studied them atten- 
tively. They professed to explain the literature of 
the Bible and the philosophy of Christianity, as 
taifght by a great master. They represented the 
Bible as a revelation of God's thoughts, affections 
and intents, in the creation, preservation and regene- 
ration of mankind. Its literature, they claimed, was 
hieroglyphical, symbolic and correspondenital, a mode 
of writing adopted by the Ancients when things 


Were known and visible representations of thonghts 
and aflfections before letters were known or needed* 
Every tree and plant and flower — every mountain, 
Idll and valley and wilderness — every stream^ lake, 
sea and ocean — every animal, bird, fish and insect — 
every other thing, simple or complex in nature, was 
an expression of a divine idea, which was read and 
understood by the most ancient people— as they are 
now and ever will be by angels, who " see thoughts 
in the trees, sermons in stones, books in the running 
brooks, and Gk)d in everything." 

" God's Bible," said Mr. Preston, " is in his own 
language, not in man's. It is composed of pictures 
of his ideas, translated from external nature. Its let- 
ter, thus translated, is of course human— and the se- 
cret of its meaning is not in the words, for they ex- 
press men's thoughts and affections — ^blit in the sym- ' 
bols, historicals and parables described, which are 
God's letters and words, and express his thoughts and 

Mr. Preston's books maintained that the Bible has 
an external and literal, and at the same time an inter- 
nal and spiritual meaning — ^that the internal dwells in 
the external, as the soul in the body — ^that it is divine 
— ^that it is God. The Apostle had his eye on this 
fact when he said, " The letter killeth, but the spirit 
maketh alive." And again — ^the whole Biblical lit- 
erature and philosophy is expressed by Paul in these 
words, " The invisible things of him, from the foun- 
diition of the World, are clearly seen — ^being under- 
blood by the tliingg that are made." Not the letter, 

163 J. W. LOGUEN. 

then, but "the things that are made," infold the spir- 
it and intent and life of the word. The most ancient 
people were bom iato a knowledge of this science of 
things, called by them " the science of correspond* 
ence." As they became sensuous, or in other words, 
aspired to know good and evil through their .senses, 
and to be governed by their own king, they invented 
and adopted their own literature and laws. That is, 
as they gradually fell from the state in which God 
placed them, they gradually lost that science. It 
lingered long in Assyria and Egypt, and finally dis- 
appeared, and was buried in scientific inventions 
adapted to a race whose spiritual senses were closed, 
and who received knowledge through their natural 
senses only — ^whose thoughts and aims were outward 
— ^who saw tiie exterior earth and heavens without a 
perception of the sublime thoughts and affections' 
that gave birth to them, and to which they corres- 
pond as language does to thought — and which, with 
their inhabitants, are a complpx embodiment of the 
divine mind. Mr. Preston's books professed to reveal 
this lost science, and open the way to the internal truth 
of the word — ^making the clouds, that cover it and re- 
fract its rays so that they fall in different angles on 
mental eyes, glow with glorious light — and bend and 
blend various opinions by the law of charity into 
the beautiful bow of Heaven. Indeed, the "bow 
in the cloud " is a hieroglyph expressing that idea.* 

*Varietieii of opinions are features of Heaven, as variety of thiugs in the outer 
TTorld are features of nature. But since those opinions are grounded in charity 
tiiere, they do not distort or divide, but vaJry its hannonv " as the light varios 
colors In beautiful objects, and as a variety of jewels constitute the beauty of a 
kingly crown," 


"Now, Children," said Mr. Preston, "You have 
told us some things about your meeting expedition, 
we should like to know if there is anything more 
you can give us." . 

" Beside the mishap," said one, " we had a beautiful 
time on tiie road — ^the birds sang, and we sung and 
laughed, and enjoyed ourselves — ^and converted the 
occasion and the rich sunlight to our uses. * Every* 
thing for use,' you say." 

" Yery well — ^it becomes us to harmonize with na* 
ture. The joy of the birds comes of the fact that 
they are in harmony with the laws of order. They 
are in their heaven, and may sing and be happy. 
True joy, in man or other creatures, is the fruit of 
harmony with the divine plans. When you are in 
unity with the divine heart, as the birds are, you will 
be as happy as you can be — ^because you will delight 
in divine uses." 

" The little birds have nothing to do but sing and 
be happy," said Lotte, a bright girl of fourteen, and 
the youngest of the family. " Every, thing is provi- 
ded for their support and comfort, and they have the 
sweetest sun to play in." 

" Those externals are essential to their comfort, and 
of course, to their joys — ^but do you suppose their 
joys are derived from those external things?" 

" Certainly — ^their little bodies being well and need- 
ing nothing, how can they be other than happy ?" 

" Ah, my dear child, your conclusion is quite nat- 
ural, and no doubt is approved of popular science 
and Christianity — ^butl am satisfied it is a mistake, 

170 i. w. tx>Qtm4 

These external. things which appear to make thd 
birds happy, are only conditions for the reception of 
divine love^^and it is the influx: of divine love itself 
into those conditions, which makes, them happy, and 
makes them play and sing in the trees and skies* 
Those conditions are dead things, and impart Ad 
feeling — ^it is the life within them that makes their 
joy — ^and inasmuch as that life inflows from Qod^s 
life (which is love) eveiy moment, when the dbndi* 
tions for its reception are perfect, therefore their hap- 
piness is perfect. It is divine love, or life, stirring in 
all their internal receptivities which creates their joys* 
It comes from internal perception and life, and can- 
not come of external matter, whatever its conditions. 
Don't you see it must be so 7" 

" I must admit that what you say is very natural,'* 
said Lotte ; " but does the same rule apply to men?'* 

" Of course it does. God has but one law of life^ 
and all life flows from him constantly." 

"Then what is the difference between mati and 
other animals ?" 

"The difference is precisely this— man is bom 
with a faculty to know, and an inclination to love, 
but without either knowledge or love. Other ani- 
mals are bom into their particular love, (which is 
their life) and into all the knowledge necessary for 
the gratification of that love— and of course cannot 
progress beyond such knowledge and love. The im- 
plantation of knowledge and love at birth sets boun- 
daries to progression— but the implantation of facul- 
ties and inclinations only, sets no such boundaries— 


ili^^fofe, a man is capable of growing Jti^f^ and 
more perfect m science, intelligence, tod trisd<Mn fcM^ 
eve]^^^that ii^ he is capable of growing more and 
more a man forever. But a beast mnst remain in 
the khowledge and love which nature prescribed fot 
him. His intellect attains its perfection with his 
body. The spider makes his web — ^the bee her hiv6 
-^the bird her nest — and the fox his hole, with as 
much science the first time they attempt it, as at the 
hundredth — while man begins in absolute ignorance, 
with only the faculty and inclination to learn, and 
iherefore progresses through eternity."* 

" There is another important difference, it seems to 
me,'* said Susan. " The bird and beast being limited 
to their particular knowledge and aflfeotion, which 
they possess in perfection, they of course have neith- 
er freedom or rationality — ^they are shut up in their 
own state, and can by no possibility change it. Their 
pajfticular love and knowledge are the internal condi- 
tion of their lives. Not only can they not be hap- 
py, but they cannot live in any other. On the other 
hand, men are gifted with freedom and rationality — 
and make and change their spiritual states as they 
Willi Therefore, the latter are responsible for theiif 
spiritual conditions, while the former are not." 

"Well said, Susan," said the father. "I would 

•The dlttinctlon between m«n and beasts is well described by Rer» E, D. Ren- 
dell, !n a very learned "Treatise on Peculiarities of the Bible»" He says t — ''The 
Cocalties for knawinff and loving God, and the consequent organisation through 
which they act, are the peculiar inheritance of man. They belong to the discrete 
degree of life, with its interior forms, which is above the endowments of the beast. 
Hence, beasts perish while man lives. Beasts, indeed, have souls, because the^ 
have life— but they arc not immortal, because they have not the spiritual orj^ani- 
totion by which to know God, or to love anything respecting him. They have no 
interior link\ by which to connect, in spiritual union, the finite with the iD6nitek 
They therefore cease to live when their bodies die," 

172 J.. W. LOQTJElf. 

have said the same aa an inference from what I did 
say — but you have happily done it for me. I only 
add — ^men are responsible, not for life itself whidbi 
flows info them from God, but for the quality of 
their lives. Not so with other animals — ^they do not 
have ideas and think as do men. Their acts flow 
spontaneously "from the influx of life or love from 
the spiritual world; that influx is called instinct. 
Their heads tod brains, the habitations of life, are so 
formed that the spiritual influx is precisely adapted 
to the particular natural, sensual, and corporal love 
which belongs to each." 

" I see where you are coming," said Lotte. " The 
birds and animals are vessels, or organs, shaped for 
the reception of the natural love or life peculiar to 
each — ^which flows into them from the spirit world. 
And man, also, is an organ or vessel to receive the 
influx of life — ^which he shapes as he likes. I^ this 
influx what is meant in .the Bible, by God's breathing 
into man's nostrils *the breath of life,' and *he be- 
came a living soul?' " 

"Certainly," said Mr. Preston. "In a normal and . 
regenerate state, man is an image and likeness of 
God, and receives in finite proportions^ all the quali- 
ties or attributes of his Heavenly Father. Unlike 
other animals, he has freedom, and therefore power 
to close up some of the avenues through which some 
of the qualities of the divine life enters his soul, and 
60 becomes a devil or beast, as the Eevelator calls him. 
Ho excludes a portion of the qualities essential to hu- 
manity, and becomes a personified self love, like an 


inferior animal, and lives only for its gratification. 
Such are the covetous — ^the licentious — ^me drunken, 
and all other profane persons." 

" Men, then, form their own lives or loves," said 
Lotte, " but other animals have theirs given them." 

" Yes — ^but I want you to imderstand that God's 
life or love is equally present with the evil and the 
good — ^the good receive him, and he enters and abides 
with them in his fullness — ^whereas, the wicked ex- 
clude him from a portion of their habitation, and be- 
come monsters, not men." 

" My life, then, is not my own," said Lotte. 

" By no means," said the father. " It seems bo — 
but it is not so. life or love is uncreated. The 
Lord only hath life in himself — ^he, therefbre, only 
gives life. Hear what he said : — " As the Father hath 
life in himself so hath he given to the Son to have 
life in himself.' Were your life your own, you 
would be independent of Q-od, and could live with- 
out him — could you not ?" 

" Why, yes — ^but if life is uncreated, then all the 
life of the world flows into ft from God — ^that is, if I 
understand you correctly, God's life or love flows 
into minerals, vegetables, animals, men and angels — 
all of which, in their external forms, are organs re- 
ceptive of life from the spirit world. Indeed, the 
imiverse is a complex receptacle of divine love." 

" Certainly, — ^you remember the Lord said — * I am 
the life,'* — * he that followeth me shaU have the light 
of life.' And how John said — * In him was life, and 
the life was the light of men.' " 

174 J. W. LOGUEN. 

" How is it that minerals ' have life ? I thought 
stones, rocks and the like were merely dead matter." 

" So the philosophers have taught ; they find their 
premises in nature, and to them *the things of the 
spirit' *are foolishness.' They walk by sight, and 
not by faith — that is, by the senses, not by internal 
and rational principle. They recognize only the ex- 
ternal forms and properties of stones, rocks, &c., 
which affect the senses. They have not atteijiptedto 
find the invisible forces which hold them together. 
The stones and rocks and mountains are held togeth- 
er by God's laws, as truly as the universe. Those 
laws are spiritual and invisible, and have force from 
the divine presence and mind. Every particle of 
matter, therefore, is vital with the Omnipresent and 
Omnipotent life of Deity. In the antediluvian lit- 
erature — ^which is the literature of the word — ^a stone 
stands for truth — a rock for the Lord himself— and a 
mountain, for the highest spiritual state. Hence, 
Christ is called *the comer stone,' and the place 
where God dwells 1$ uniformly called a mountain. 
The foundations of Heaven are living stones. Since 
you are so interested lin this conversation, I would be 
glad to exjtend it. Indeed, I am as much interested 
as you are," said the father — " but our day's work is 
before us-r-our cojlaborer, JanOp has finished his 
meal, and we ihave finished ours. The food we have 
taken into our bodies and spirits, needs digestion, 
and the best help ifor digestion is work." 

" There is one question I would like to ask," said 


" Put it, theai — ^we must be biiet" 

" If all aTiimalfl and birds correspond to affections 
of the mind^ how are we to know what those affec- 
tions are ?" 

" Your question has a large drcumference; 1 will 
:briefly say — ^before the fisdl, every thing in nature 
was seen to be the immediate outbirA of the divine 
jnind, and to be * very good,'— every mineral, veget- 
etable, insect, fish, bird and beast was, and was seen 
to be, an expression, eachi of a thought — one of 
iGod's thoughts, and of his love, too — ^for there is no 
thought without an indwelling affection. At that 
.time, men had as free use of their spiritual &c- 
jilties as of their natural Acuities, and could see not 
only the external and material quaUty of tilings, but 
their internal and spiritual qualities. When they 
saw a flower, a tree, or an animal, they not only knew 
it was an expre^^ion of one of God's thoughts, but 
they knew what that thought was. They did not 
need letters and books then. They are induced by 
the ML The earth and the heavens were radiant 
with truth. The light and charities of Heaven were 
seen in * the things that are made,' and sparkled be- 
fore their eyes like precious stones of the New Jeru- 

" Is this what is meant by God's bringing all the 
oattle and fowls to Adam, and his naming them ?" 

" Precisely — ^to name a thing in antediluvian lan- 
guage^ was to express its quality or essence. Names 
of men, or animals, or any other thing, corresponded 
to and expressed quality only, in the in&ncy of the 

176 J. w, LoauKN. 

world — and men saw the quality in the name as well 
as in the thing itself. The Bible is written in that 
language. Hence, Christians are said to be 'baptized 
into the name of the Father/ &c. Hence the ex- 
pression — *A cup of cold water in the name oi 
a Disciple ' — * A prophet in the name of a Prophet* 
— * Justified in the nxmie of Jesus ' — * A name above 
every other name ' — ' Whose narnes are in the Book 
of Life ' — * Keep through thine own nam^y and a 
thousand like expressions. Hence, also, the dififerent 
woods and precious metals in the ark, the tabernacle 
and temple — ^all expressive of spiritual and cfelestial 
goodness and truth, qualities of the Lord. Hence, 
too, the animals sacrificed by the Jewish code.* 
Those animals and things were . not arbitrary names, 
as the Jews blindly supposed. They corresponded 
to the charities of Heaven. They had a special sig- 
nification and relation to Human Eegeneration. And 
now, child, ask no more questions. Let us suspend 
conversation until other duties are done in their or- 
der," said the father. 

Jarm heard all this talk, but it was Greek to him. 
He -had been bred in darkness, and his faculties were 
all undeveloped. This was his first day with his 

*The clean animals and birds offered or sacrificed, represented pure and innocent 
affections. The ceremony of sacrificing them was a lesson in an ancient langnaig^, 
that we should hold the affections symbolized sacred, and live them, in our actions 
ftnd lires. The Ancients knew well enough that God " desired mercy and not sao- 
rifice ; and the knowledge of God more than burnt offei ings. (Hos. vi. 6, Math, 
iz. 13, xii. 7.) But the Jews were so thoroughly sensuous that they lost all the 
Bigpiificance and intent of the sacrifices, and thought God was pleased with the 
yteral transact! .n only. And there are some Christians who have no higher opin- 
ion of those ancient ordinances than the Jews had, and really believe they aro 
done away by the advent' of Gbrist-^and are of no use either in their letter or in- 
tent. Whereas, in truth, they are as binding now as they ever were. '> Luve (lod 
find thy neighbor, for that is the law and Uie prophets," is only a transcript or 
translation of those ancient enactmente. 

A LBSSOK. 177 


new master, and it seemed to him as if lie liad been 
taken away from devils and placed in Heaven. He 
had formed no higher concjeption of God and happy 
beings^than this family. K their talk, which he had 
jnst heard, was beyond his ken, he could feel the 
ftura of their pure and blessed spirits, and wished no 
higher enjoyment or better companions. 

Never did mortal man go to a day's work with 
greater good will than Jarm did that mormng. Mr. 
Preston went with him into the woods, and described 
the limits within which to fell his timber. 

" I make no blows upon the forest," said he, " ex- 
cept where I intend to clear. To do so,^ would be to 
invite the birds and winds to sow wild grass and 
weeds in the openings, and expose the standing tim- 
ber to the tempest — ^it is bad farming." 

Jarm marked a few trees with his eye, and fell to 
chopping. Few men in Tennessee had a stronger 
arm than his, or could wield an axe with greater 
skill. Mr. Preston stayed with him to witness the be- 
ginning of his work, and then left him, with the 
charge to trim the tops of the trees and pile the 

Hp was not disposed to be long in geting the tim- 
ber to the site of his habitation — ^for the treble rea- 
son that he wished to confirm the favorable opinion 
his new master had of his fidelity and ability, and to 
shorten the period of his separation from his co- 
laborers, for whom he cherished great respect and at- 
tachment — ^and for the further reason that he wished 
to come into the possession and enjoyment of a house 

178 J.W. I^OGUEN. 

he was to call hia own, and uae as ids own* Of - 
course, with his ability and means, the mateiids were 
on the spot without delay, and he was busy hewing 
and fitting them for building. ^ 

" Jarm, you don't do that work as well as you 
should do it," said Mr. Preston^ as he was chipping 
and hewing the logs for his house. 

"Why, sir?" 

" Can't you finish it off nicer than that ?" 

" yes — ^but this is nice enough for a poor slave.' 

" No, no, no, — you should do work for your own 
use as nice and well as if you were doing it for my 
use. Eemember it as long as you live — ^be as partic- 
ular to do your work nice for yourself, as for me, or 
any one else. Never slight anything. I say this for 
your life-long benefit. Will you remember it ?" 

" O yes, sir." 

This was a memorable lesson to Jarm. It had a 
revolutionary effect on him. He had been bred to 
believe anything good enough for a black man — ^that 
his condition allowed nothing to taste or ambition, 
and very little to comfort — ^but here was a concesacm 
that the poor slave had the same claim to any and all 
these as his rich master. It was seed sown in his un- 
derstanding, that set him to reasoning in a way that 
awakened and encouraged his self-respect, and made 
him begin to think not only, but to feel that he was a 
man. He thought of that remark all day — ^went to 
sleep with it in his mind — ^and there it stiU is, strong* 
in its growth and rich in its fruits. It awakened a 
consciousness of his individuality. It was a conces- 


man to liis manhood, and he felt more and more that 
he was a man as he dwelt on it 

It is scarcely necessary to say Jarm's work was no 
more slighted The small house was soon finished, 
with a skill and neatness that surpassed his master's 
house. The growth of « fOftrnf^ *id unbroken spirit 
is rapid when the weight that crushed it is taken offi 
A few days, only, sujficed to give Jann's body and 
.mind a manly shape and bearing — and he entered his 
humble cabin with a keener exaltatioii and greater 
gratitude than a monarch feels when he takes pos- 
session o£ a new palace. Here his bed was placed, 
and other things for his comfort^ as if he had been 
of the blood of the Prestons. 

When he sat about the job, he wanted to complete 
it, that he might retreat to it fix>m his friends and be 
at ease. But his nature was eminently susceptible 
and social, and ere he finished it, he was not only at 
home in this dear family, but his soul was knit to 
them all by reciprocal kind feelings and growing in- 
timacy — and the thought of leaying ^ same xoof 
oyer nighty ey^ was unpleasant 

130 i: W. IiOGUIN. 


Thougli the Prestons had a qualified title to Jann, 
and, in contemplation of slave law, he was a thing for 
their uses, nevertheless, he was indulged no less than 
the sons. Do unto others as you would have others 
do to you, was the rule of life to the parents and to 
the children. Under such influences, Jarm's spirit 
quickly developed into manhood. The sense of ser- 
vitude and danger which bent his soul and body to 
degrading forms, passed away, and he stood erect in 
the manly proportions of his nature. On Sabbath and 
holydays, when yourig and old appeared in their best 
attire, he was dressed as well as the rest, and rode by 
their side to the meetings. The religion of the Pres- 
ton's did not condemn the sects as wicked. 

" It is not heresy, but an evil life that is condemn- 
ed. A man may err in doctrine and live a life ©f char- 
ity — ^and he may know all truth and live an evil life. 
It is the life that determines his religious qualities and 
state. Worship is not attention to Sabbath and re- 
ligious forms or ordinances — ^it is obedience of the 
commands — ^it is life." 

Such were their views of the substance and forms 
of religion and religious worship. They attended 
religious assemblies, therefore, i^ot in respect to creeds 

Lira AT Mk PBBffTON'S. 181 

and sects, but in repect to the chaxity whicli is the 
soul of all religion^ 

It is said above, that Jarin rode with the Prestons 
to the meetings, but it was not every Sabbath that 
they all rode, or that they all attended meetings. 
Whether he rode or walked with them, though a slavd 
in law, he became master of ceremonies in fact. He 
was particularly attentive to his personal appearance 
and address, and no body-servant handed a lady &om 
his pahn to the saddle with greater ease or grace. The 
slaveholders looked upon him as a liveried slave — ^the 
brothers embraced him as a boon companion, the sis- 
ters admired his personal appearance and kind atten- 
tions. Caste, and pride, and prejudice of color were 
given to the winds, in the house and in the field. Nor 
did they make any concessions to slavery in their in- 
tercourse and habits, except that Jarm eat and slept 
separate from the family. The Preston family and 
estate were a little commonwealth by themselves, 
which shed their influence upon society, but received 
nothing in return. No fenuly in that region was more 
respected, few more wealthy, and none so distinguish- 
ed for morals and happiness. 

. It was not strange, therefore, that Jarm was happy 
ia his new condition. ' He was living, in the oMer of 
Providence, upon an oasis in the great Southern Des- 
ert Alone, among white people, his color, iostead 
of excluding sympathy, attracted it, and was a guar- 
antee for the freedom of -his feculties and rights. The 
children had even less regard than their parents for 
southern sentiment and society. Tbe parents felt their 

188 ^. ^. m^tji^. 

j^tesBxite and inflttenoe; they did not For t&e sa3£« 
of safety, the former were compelled to Tefipeet iSfcefar 
forms, while the latter, educated in the domestic cir- 
cle, found nothing without that circle so genial to 
their young hearts, and therefore lived and loved i1^ 
thoughtless and fearless of the ho^e elements €mt 
ruled and ruined society around thetea. 

" You will' go without your dinner to-day," said 
Susan playfdlly to Jarm, on a time when Mr. and Mrs: 
Preston were absent, " if you don't eat at our tahte.** 

" Yes," said Alice^ " and supj)er too, and breaMast 
and dinner to-morrow." 

" Why, you have not set my little table to-day. No 
matter, I will be a good boy, and wait upon you, and 
eat when you have done. It will be a pleasure to me." 

" You shall do no such thing," said John ; " come . 
along and sit here and eat with us. We will adopt 
our own customs now fitther and mother have left us 
to our own responsibilities." 

." I would do nothing to displease them." 

"Neither would we," said one and all, "butaotmg 
On their principle in a thing like this, we should dis* 
please them, did we not live out our own sympathies, 
wishes^ and ccmvictiona when left to ourselves." 

"How is that?" saidJarm, 

" Take a seait hem and we will talk the matter 


" I submit to atrthoiity of oomfse," ssdd J^arm as he 
smUed and took a seat between John and Charles at 
the table. 


" We will have a fine time now the government is 
in our hands," said John. 

" Of course we will," said Susan. 

" And now let us eat,, and talk, and each one free 
their own mind," said John, as he fell to carving the 
meat and handing it around. 

" But don't we always free our minds?" said Lottie. 

"Why yes ; we are pretty free to speak and do 
what we think is about right ; that is, te« are." 

" Who then is not firee ?" 

" To be frank, with great respect to fether, I tlnnk , 
he lacks a little freedom." 

"How is that?" 

" I believe if he acted his opinions and wishes he 
woxdd not have one table for us and another for Jarm." 
"Why then does he do it ?" 

"It is in complaisance to the laws and customs 
which use and abuse colored people." 

"Do you believe that fether has any respect for 
those laws and customj^ o?r the people who make 
Hiem?" said Lottie, with some spirit.. 

" By no means ; fether believes the laws are wrong, 
and timt the people are wrong, atnd because the peo- 
ple are wrong they make bad laws. So Ynx)ng are 
they, that they do not always regard law or right ; as 
a matter of caution and prudence, therefore, he defers 
to the customs and prgudices of his bad neighbors, 
for the safety of his person and property, as well as 
other things." 

" It is hardly just to say that father lacks freedom 

184 J. W. LOQUBN. 

in the. premises. I woiild rather eay he acted fix>i]i 
motives of wisdom and prudence." 

" But is it wise and prudent to do anything that 
appears to countenance so bad a thing as slavery?" 

" Father does no such thing, we all know. And 
here we see how unsafe it is to judge a mairfor a sin- 
gle 'act or omission, without a knowledge of all the 
motives that induced it. Our fether makes no dis- 
tinction between Jarm and us, except as our relations 
or merits vary; and hating slavery as he does, he 
gives him a table by himself as a seeming concession 
to the enemy, but as a means in fact of annoying and 
destroying the enemy." 

"How so?" ' 

" It is well known in the country around that feth- 
er disapproves of slavery; but were he unnecessarily 
to war with it at points where it is most sensitive, he 
would gain nothing for jfreedom, but would lose all 
opportunity to befriend it; he would destroy the 
wheat with the tares. An enemy has done this thing, 
and God's plan is to let them grow together until the 
judgment; or, in other words, until the means of de- 
struction are certain. That is the order of Provi- 
dencft • it is wise." 

" WTiat is wisdom?" said Lottie. 

" It is the form of love ; in other words, it is the 
form of which love is the substance." 

" But is there no wisdom without love?" 
" Ko, indeed." 

" Why not ? We have great and learned men, who 


supply the world with knowledge, and &cilitate the 
business ai\^ comforts of life; are they not wise men?" 

"If love to man prompts them to communicate the 
light they get, then are they wise ; but if they employ 
genius to get wealth and tame, or for any other selfish 
end, then may they have wealth and fiune, the thing 
sought — ^but the rewards of wisdom, however great the 
good that results to society, belong to another. They 
are due only to the influx of divine light whicR form- 
ed and conducted their powers, and of which they 
were all unconscious^ The end of wisdom is good; 
it is but the external form of love, as truth is the form 
of goodness, and as faith Is the form of charity." 

" Elnowledge then with charitable ends is wisdom, 
is it?" 

" Certainly. A man may have all knowledge ; if" 
he has not charity he is only a tinkling cymbal. He 
is like light without heat; like the light of winter, 
which locks nature in ice and glistens on its cold tomb ; 
like feith alone. But wisdom imited with love; or 
feith united with charity, which is the same thing, are 
in the spiritual world what heat united to light is in 
the natural world; the heat diflFiises a genial warmth 
through nature, the buds open, the earth teems with 
vegetables and insects, the birds and beasts marry and 
multiply and fill the air and fields with life and joy. 
Love, unregulated by wisdom, would consume man- 
kind with its heat So light, untempered by heat, 
Av<.>uld reduce the material universe to a vast ice-berg. 
'I'licy must be united, or the spiritual and natural 
world will perish." 

186 J. W. LQQUBN. 

'^ But if it is wise and proper for Jarm to eat at tiiat 
little table, and we at this, when father and mother 
are here, how is it proper he should eat here, now they 
are gone ? ?4ind, you, Jarm, I would consent to no 
other arrangement than this, but I want to understaiid 
this a£Gur, tiaat is all," said Lotte. 

". All light," 09id Jarm. " I know you all mean to 
act properly, and as I am a learner, I am glad you 
put these questions, for I also want to hear the answer. 
You will remember that your family is the first school 
I have been in -tJiat had any real regard for me." 

" I wilj answer the ,q^estiQn," said John. " It may 
be as proper for Jarm to sit there now, as when fether 
and mother are at home ; but their absence is brief, 
and the government is in my hands, mainly, while 
they are gone, and I don't feol bound to violate my 
feelings or wishes, or yours, in this matter. There is 
an impropriety somewhere. Father is not responsible 
for my course. Nobody can make complaint, but the 
wronged one, and if Jarm's old master don't like it, 
let him ihelp himself." 

"You need not be scared, my good fellow," said 
Jarm, " If I sqc any body coming here, I shall cer- 
jtainly arise, and put myself in a position that will not 
jBubjept my friends to harm." 

" You might do so if you pleased, or sit if you 
pleased, it would please me that you should sit here 
with us, in such case — ^but if any such thing occurs, it 
must be after this, for I now declare this meeting ad- 
jo^irned to evening." 

The above is a sample of the conversation of these 

BLQH) KAN'B buff. 187 

young people the first time their parents left them alone 
at home. There was no guile in the young Prestons. 
They were intelligent and generous and brave. They 
had no seoret in the premises, but duly informed their 
parents of everything important for tiiem to know. 

" Here is a good long winter evening, and how shall 
we improve it?" said John, after they arose from sup- 
per a^d gathered about the large fire. 

The light of day had already disappeared and the 
candles were lighted, "Give me your pocket hand- 
kerchief," said Alice, addressing Jarm. The fiur girl 
bound the handkerchief dose about the eyes of its 
owner, so that she believed he could see nodiing, and 

" There ; let us see how expert you are at BUnd 
Man's Buff." 

" And what am I to do, Alice ?" 

" You are to catch one of us and tell the name, and 
then the one caught will be blinded and yourself re- 
leased ; and now do your best." 

Although Jarm was nearly domesticated with his 
yoimg friends, he was not so perfectly so a^ tobe free 
from embarrassment. Under any circumstances he 
could not address Alice but as a superior being. For 
so humble and degraded a thing as he, purposely to 
put his hand on her person, Seemed to ^m like tres- 
passing on an angel. Kor did he regard Susan or 
Charlotte with less veneration. Such a commission 
from the lips of Alice, the most beautifiil of the three 
girls, confounded him. He stood awkwardly for a 
moment to gather courage, when Charley cried out : 

188 J. W. LOGUEN. 

" Stir about my good fellow ! You must make an 
eflfort or never see the light." 

Whether so intended or not, the suggestion ^had a 
talismanic effect ; it fell upon his ear like the voice of 
prophecy; his condition as a slave came upon his 
nerves like a heavy hand upon a stringed instrument 
Just at that moment he felt a soft hand upon his back 
which was instantly removed, and his ear follotv-ed a 
light step and girl's laugh into a comer of the room- 

" By the heavens above me !" thought he, " these 
are delivering angels. Why should I fear ?" 

He immediately began to move about slowly in the 
direction of the sound. The bird had flown though 
and twittered in another place. He then began to 
feel about and acquaint himself with the room, and 
becoming used to it, he spread his hands and moved 
intelligently after his game, which was active and 
skillful, sometimes dodging under his arms and hard- 
ly escaping his touch, until finally practice made him 
expert, and he had them all fleeing before him, and 
then at his sudden diametrical move, the girls scream- 
ed, finding there was no escape, and Charlotte, and 
Alice, and Charles were enfolded in his strong em- 
brace. Jarm could not mistake their persons, but as 
Lottie was the first named, it was voted that she should 
next be blinded. 

The little party now became crazy with excitement, 
and Jarm, as if in a dream, *forgot his conditio/! and 
embarrassment in the general delight, which was as 
new to him as visions of a new world. The play was 
continued — ^until wearied with its monotony, they took 

NKW LIFE. 189 

anotlier, and then another, and tried all the child's 
plays within their knowledge. The fisict that Jarm 
was not of the family, and was a novice in such things, 
of amiable temperament, and fine appearance and ad- 
dress, though Ignorant of letters arid society, subject- 
ed him to many penalties, and made hini the instru- 
ment of redeeming many pledges which were forfeited 
by the rules of these homely amusements. 

At precisely ten o'clock, with one accord, the young 
Preston's dropped their plays, in obedience to the 
rule on such occasions, and after a brief relaxation 
and small talk, they all retired to their places of rest. 

The experience of a few weeks, ending as the week 
just passed by Jarm at Mr. Preston's, was like a dream. 
The rays of the morning, after the scenes just describ- 
ed, had life in them, but it was new life. It entered 
his soul through those rays, as they softly crept into 
his eyes and produced sensations such as infants feel, 
when new light shines into them — ^with this difference, 
.his mind was intoxicated and dizzied by the effidgence 
that sped him through the track of lost time towards 
a tangible, intelligent, and lofty manhood. He could 
reason, they could not. 

Jarm did not as usual drop to sleep that night al- 
most as soon as his head touched the pillow. The 
fects of the evening stirred in his memory like living 
things, and combined in his imagination in exciting 
forms. When morning c^e, it was difficult to say he 
had or bad not slept ; though dreamy and unreal as 
his state seemed, his energies swelled with delirious 
power, and he leapt from his bed at an early moment, 

190 J. w. iiOCmnN. 

to restore the order of his brtdn by actaal Cbntoet #ili6t 
material things. 

" How did you sleep last night?" said Alice, afi they 
were approaching the breakfast table. 

" It is diScTilt for me to say I slept at all." 

"Why so?" 

" I was playing Blind Man's Buff and other playiJ^ 
all night." 

" Of course you were dreaming ; did your i'eama 
break your rest?" 

" O, no» I could hare rested in my dreams until 
now, if the light had not pried 'my eyes open." 

" Persons as active and robust as you, are generally 
sound sleepers." 

" I rarely know anything two minutes after my head 
touches my pillow." 

" Now, Ally, let me ask you a question. What id 
the use of the frolic we had last night?" said John. 

" You call it a frolic. Well, there is no virtue iii 
terms. You may as well ask what use for children to ' 
play in the nursery ; the lambs and calves and colta 
to play in the fields ; the kittens to' play in the barn; 
and the chickens in the yard. Our play last evening 
was obedience to the innocent instincts of nature; an 
external response to the influx of divine love into the 
soul ] things to be varied or restrained only by sinful 
loves or harsh tyranny. There! are you answered?** 

" How happened it, then, that it kept Jarm awake 
or plunged him into dreams? There is ncfuse in 

" No use in dreams 1 Brother, you forget yourself, 

V&& OP DBSAHS. 191 

Gf aife not yet quite waked up. Have not our fether 
and inOtlier taught us ; do not those books on the 
jshelf teach us ; does not the Book of books teach us ; 
and does not our own reason confirm the truth, that 
there is nothing in Heaven or Hell, nothing in the 
whole kingdom of God, be it good or bad, that does 
tiot perform uses ; is it not the fimdamental principle 
of the government of God ? Dreams are usefdl, to 
prove that the spirit is a substantial, living and acting 
thing, that the flesh clothes." 

"Is that all they prove?" said Lottie. * 

** Ko. Among other things, they demonstrate that 
it is the spirit and not the body that sees, and feels, 
and smells, and hears, and tastes, as well as thinks 
and reasons ; and that the body, in itself is as sense- 
less as a corpse. It is the house the spirit makes to 
live in. If a man's spirit is all sensitiveness when 
the flesh that covers it is locked in sleep, so also is it 
when the flesh is locked in death. They are an argu- 
ment that man never dies. They are. daily witnesses 
of immortality ; a constant declaration that the life of 
man is in the spirit only ; that his flesh has no more 
life in it than the clod on which he treads." 

** But if our play was useful and innocent, how hap- 
pens it tha^ it kept Jarm awake, against the demand 
of nature for sleep ? You have not answ:ered that 
question yet." 

"It may be a necessary.experience to teach him 
what you and I already know. Jarm himself, has 
told the story ; his life explains it ; life is not natural 
wiiL him yet. But if Jarm was kept awake by a new 

192 J. W. LOGUEX. 

aspect of life, did not you and I sleep the sounder ? 
Did not we give our hearts to our heavenly fether with 
a sweeter confidence for having yielded to his laws?" 

" But I want to know, if it made Jarm wakeful to 
play as he did with boys and girls he never played 
with before, why did it not also make you wakeftd to 
play with a boy you never played with before ; if it 
made him dream, why did it not make you dreamt 
Many a young lady has been made a dreamer by more 
trifling incidents than those within your knowledge 
last night." 

" I see what you are at, brother. I appreciate your 
compliment ; but I think it too comprehensive and 
significant to consist with delicacy for the feelings of 
others. I hesitate not to say, that, to us, our amuse- 
ments last night were as truly the bread of life as this 
toast I am now eating. 

" Pardon me, sister. You have gallantly triumphed 
over my thoughtless badinage. I acknowledge my- 
self defeated and instructed. You are right, and have 
been all the way through ; and since you have doije 
so well, you must instruct to the end. You have now 
touched a most important point in science as well as 
theology — and for the sake of your naughty brother 
and our juniors here, I hope you will say * What is 
the bread of life ?^" 

" It is Goodness. To eat it, is to incorporate it with 
the spirit or life. Hence, the Lord said, * I am the 
bread of life.' * He that eateth me even he shall live 
by me.' * He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my 
blood dwelleth in me and I in him' — and except ye 


&UB eat and drink * ye have no life in you,' Flesh, 
and blood correspond to truth and goodness, and those 
qualities constitute the Lord himself; they are the un- 
created substance of God. To eat goodness and truth 
is to live them and make them ours. Goodness, which 
is the bread of life, belongs not to a man until he does 
it. Then he eats it It forms his will, which is his 
life. It is incorporated with his spirit" 

" But I don't understand," said Lottie, " how our 
amusements last evening were truth — ^the bread of 
life, and aU that" 

" Whatever is in divine order is good, and of course 
true. Our amusements last night were in divine or- 
der — ^that is, they were spiritually good — ^therefore 
they were true. K you would ascertain whether a 
thing be true or not, ascertain whether it be good — if 
it be good, it is true — ^if it is not good, it is false — for 
truth is but the form of goodness — ^that is the test 
Our amusements were in harmony with every word 
that proceedeth from the mouth of God, and are 
therefore a portion of that word. * The word was 
made flesh,' the nutriipent of the natural man, that 
we might know there is spiritual substance, life, nu- 
triment, in every word that comes from it." 

" Do you mean that God's words are really to be 
eaten ?" 

" To be sure I do — ^not that they can be eaten as 

we eat flesh. The spirit is nourished by thoughts 

and affections — the will receives them and lives them 

out God's words are truths embodying divine affec- 


194 3. w. Loaufijr, 

tions, which are the life of angels and good men— -the 
flesh and blood of the scriptures.** 

" I nerer could see what nourishment there was in 

" It is because you don*t understand the spiritual 

" D« make me understand it, then." 

" Well, ni try. K you had been wicked, and told " 
your mother a fib, to keep the tfuth from her, do you 
not feel that your spirit would be faint and weak ?— 
that you would be a very coward?— and that inno* 
cence and truth only could give you strength to ap- 
pear before her?" 

" Certainly." 

" You must come to relish goodness and truth in 
such case, and receive them into yoUr will, and act 
them, -before you would feel a restoration of courage 
and strength— before you could present your face to 
your father on earth, or your Father in Heaven." 

" I begin to take the idea* If I love goodness, my 
heart will take in the elements that compose it, afid 
they will become a part of myself— my spirit will be 
formed of them, and I shall will and live them all 
the while* They will be my strength, my life— or, 
rather, the bread that sustains my life*" 

" That is it." 

" Is that the meaning of the Lord*s prayer — * Give 
Us this day our daily bread ?' " 

" It is nothing else." 

" Well, now I understand it— it is beautiful." 

** The ble6aed feature of it is, that God is constant* 


ly giving us liiis bread, and we only eat it when we 
give it away." 


" The bread is God's — it comes down from Heav- 
en. It is ours when we live it, do it Faith without 
charity is dead, and charity seeks not its own. Hence 
the bread is never appropriated until we give it to 
the himgiy." 
* " O yes, yes, yes ! The more you eat of it — ^that is, 
the more you give to others — ^the more you have to 
give. Isr that what is intended by *the loaves and 
fishes,' Lnd the * seven baskets of fragments,' and the 
* widow's handful of meal in a barrel,' and * a little 
oil in a cruse V " 

" Of course it is." 

" But were they not real miracles ?** 

"Very likely. As regards the truth taught by 
tiiem, it matters not whether they were or not. They 
are hieroglyphs — ^pictures of ideas, or truth in ale- 
gory, in the ancient mode of teaching — ^before letters 
were used. The greatest miracle is, that the words 
have an external and internal meaning — ^and the en- 
tire word being so written, makes it an entire mir- 

" Are miracles good for nothing?" 

" They compel natural belief, but not rational and 
spiritual belief, or faith. They cannot be forced. 
The Jews were so natural and sensual, that they 
would have profaned the word had it been given them 
in their own language. Therefore, Christ spoke to 
them only in parables — ^the literature of the Anciente, 

196 J. W. LOGUEN. 

or truth in correspondences — ^to the intent that the 
record might be preserved by the few to whom it waa 
* given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of 
Heaven/ and to them he explained the parables as 
they could bear them." 

"♦How do we know that the divine ideas of the 
Bible are expressed in the pictorial language of the 
most ancient people ?" 

* Christ says so, in effect — * I will open my mouA 
in parable&^I will utter things that have been kept 
secret from the foundation of the world.^ These are 
the mysteries that were buried in the fall. Besides, 
the lost science of correspondence has been found, 
and modem scholars have corroborated it by the hie* 
roglyphic literature of Egypt and mystic images of 
Nineveh — a science which exhumes the temples of 
ancient learning, and deciphers the symbols by 
which the truths of Heaven were known before the 
fall. This discovery, shows the Bible to be written 
according to this lost science, and can be truly under- 
stood only in its light — a light which melts the sects 
into one by the heat of charity, and forms the letter 
of the wQrd which divides men's minds, into a har* 
monious and heavenly philosophy." 

" According to this, every person must feed from 
the same dish, and eat the same morsel — and each 
one's appetite increase in proportion to the food he 

" Certainly — ^that is the law of charity. The spirit 
grows in strength and capacity in proportion to the 
good it imparts. It is that which makes the angels 


SO Strong that * one can chase a thousand (wicked 
ones) and two put ten thousand to flight' ^iritual 
food and natural food differ as spirit and matter ; the 
former is affectional, and of course occupies no space 
or time ; the latter is natural, and subject to the laws 
of matter. The former is substantial and imperisha- 
ble — ^the latter material, unsubstantial, without life or 
motion. But we must defer the conversation for the 

These young persons now departed to their daily 
duties — ^nor did any of them need an overseer to com 
pel them to perform them. 


In Mr. Preston's neighborhood lived a planter by 
the name of Wilks. He was wealthy, and owned 
many slaves. He was proverbial for his himianity — 
particularly for his humanity to colored people. He 
•was thus humane from religious principle, and was as 
tenacious of the external letter of the ^Bible as Mr. 
Preston was of the internal spirit of it. According 
to Mr. Wilks' notion, the spirit of the word actually 
lay in the letter. So scrupulous and conscientious 
was he in this regard, that he maintained the duty of 
Christians to wash each other's feet, as Christ washed 

198 'i. ^\'. i:.>L::x 

his disciples' feet, relat'j<l in the 13th Chap, of John. 
He wa3 a man of eminent sincerity, and by the at- 
tractions of his wealth and singular religious persua- 
sions, he drew around him a short-lived Ghristiaa 
sect. He built a small chapel for public worship on 
his own estate, and placed in it a large basin ; and 
every month took his family, slaves and all, there, 
and they washed each other's feet in the water in the 
basin for that purpose — ^literally following the exam- 
ple of his Lord. 

In this ceremony of feet baptism, there was no. 
distinction of master and slave. The ablution was 
* mutually performed with equal respect to all condi- 
tions, colors, ages and sexes. The master washed his 
slave's feet, and the slave washed his master's feet — 
and altogether, they obtained in the neighborhood 
the sectarian title of * The feet- washing Baptists.' 

When it was reported that a slave was about to be 
separated from his kindred, by a sale at a distance, it 
was quite common for this good Mr. Wilks to pur- 
chase him (or her) and bring him into this church. 

But this church was not composed of Mr. Wilkes 
family alone. It embraced the whites and blacks all 
around, bond and free, who were permitted and wil- 
ling to come into it. It would have covered the 
whole black population, but for the slave-holders. 
They despised a sect whi^h condescended to forms so 
humbling, and which was a manifest reproach upon 
their lives. The principle obviously demanded a 
common brotherhood which they could not allow be- 
tween themselves and the negroes. For such reason, 


this feet-washing sect was unpopular with slave- 
holders, and for the fttrther reason that slavery in 
this church was nominal only — and it was generally 
understood and believed, that Mr. Wilk's will eman- 
^pated his slaves — ^a sectarian feature eminently odi- 
ous to the slave owners. 

Not many months after Jarm's arrival at Mr. 
Prestons, Mr. Wilks died, and his church, with its 
charities, died with him. 

On opening his will, in lieu of giving freedom to 
his christian brothers and sisters, a provision was 
found in it, ordering that his slaves be sold by fami 
lies, and not singly, if sold at all. The disappoint- 
ment of the negroes in not being set free, was pacifi 
ed by the consideration that they were not to be 
separated from family' connections — ^the prospect of , 
which fills them with more terror and distress than 
iill the calamities incident to slas^ery. Death to them 
is not so terrible. If they become fugitives, they 
hope to hear from their kindred, and even to see them 
again — ^but if they are sold away, hope is extinguish- 
ed in absolute despair. 

In process of time, the Executors of the Wilk's 
estate advertised its personal property, cattle, horses, 
hogs, slaves, &c., for public sale. As his personal 
property — ^particularly his property in slaves — ^was 
known to be large, .multitudes from &r and near at- 
tended on the day of sale. Jarm was there with Mr. 
Preston, assisting the Executors to collect the dead 
articles at the auction block. There, too, were the 
notable slave dealers of Tennessee and Alabama. 

200 J W. LOQUEN. 

They had a seat by themselves, and were indifferent 
to everything iintQ the negroes were brought to the 

• Among those dealers, Jarm saw the identical fel- 
low who brought him from Manscoe's Creek. His 
gray hair, and other marks of age did not conceal 
the antitype prefigured on Jarm's memory. There, 
too, he saw that other wretch, more hateful still," who 
purchased and tore from hk bleeding mother his lit- 
tle brother and sister. 

The poor negroes were chatty and cheerfdl while 
the auction was going on — ^not doubting that they ' 
would be sold in families when their turn came. 
What, then, was their horror and agony, when they 
found the direction of the will utterly disregarded, 
and themselves forced on to the block and sold singly. 
Such shrieks and misery were never before heard, of 
children, and even babes, torn from their mothers — 
husbands and wives, parents and children, separated 

Col. Wilks, the acting Executor, venerated his 
father ; but he regarded the direction in the will as 
advisory only, and there was no legal power to en- 
force it. He was a man of susceptibility and sympa- 
thy, and predominant love of money. He retired a 
littie from the scene of sorrow, that his eyes might 
not see it, as the Ostrich hides his head to get away 
from danger. Thus was this little church of feet- 
washing Christians broken up and scattered to the 

There was one of tlii.s ill-fated number who made 

A BLACK H£BO. 201 

his mark on this occasion, and deserves a place in 
history. His name was Jerry. He was about Jhirty 
years of age, over six feet high, of the most critical 
beauty of proportions, quick of motion, of iron mus- 
cle and gigantic strength. Shakspeare would say he 
had the eye of Mars, the front of Jove, and the arm 
of' Hercules. He was a husband and father, but his 
wife was free, and of course his children, also. Put 
upon the block, Jerry sa^ he was about to be struck 
off to an Alabama trader. He told the trader, in a 
solemn manner, not to buy him, for that he would 
never leave his' wife and children, and be taken to 

The trader made no account of Jerry's warnings, 
and bid him off for the sum of $1250, and handed 
one of his bullies a set of irons to put on him. Cases 
of this sort are often inet by the bullies and disposed 
of in short order — ^for the reason that the slave has 
too much prudence, or too little pluck, forcibly to as- 
sert his manhood. 

The bully paid no attention to* the threats of the 
insulted negro, and proceeded at once towards him to 
iron him. So soon as the bully came within the 
reach of Jerry's arm, he fell from his fist to the 
groimd, land lay as lifeless and senseless as if he had 
been kicked under the ear by the hoof of a racer. 
To all appearance he had fought his last battle, and 
was taken up for dead. Hi3 defiant conqueror now 
braved a host of enemies, led by his new master, who 
rushed on him with bludgeons. 

Bravely and powerfully did the lion-hearted black 

202 J. W. LOQUEN. 

man carry the war into the dense ranks of his oppos- 
ers. At Jarm's stand point, he was seen over their 
heads, his eye flashing fire, and his strong arm mow- 
ing them down and piling them in heaps about him, 
doing his best to sell his life dear; and, if possible, 
from their broken bones and bruised bodies, force up- 
on them the lesson, * He that taketh the sword shall 
perish by the sword.' But, alas, the heavy blows he 
received from all quarter^ were too much for him. 
Covered with gore, he was about to fall imder a doz- 
en heavy and probably fatal clubs, when Col. Wilks, 
who was also a strong and brave man, learning the 
condition of his heroic slave, rushed among the as- 
sailants, with streaming eyes, exclaiming : — 

" Hold up !— for God's sake, hold up I" 

" What do you mean. Col. Wilks?" cried a dozen 

" I want to compromise this matter, and save this 
man — ^there is no use in killing him." 

"Be has done his best to kill us, and has nearly 
killed many of us.'* 

" There is nobody killed yet, and the poor fellow 
now can do no harm," said Col. Wilks, pointing to 
Jerry, who was bending under his wounds against a 
post for support, while the blood dropped down his 
limbs. " Let me see you a moment," he added, turn- 
ing tow^ds the trader who purchased Jerry. 

Col. Wilks was a man of influence, and greatly re- 
spected. With one consent the battle ceased, while 
the trader and the Colonel held a conference apart 
from the crowd. The conference was soon closed. 


and they returned and took a position beside the 
bleeding man, where the trader proclaimed that the 
afiBBor was amicably adjusted — ^that he had sold Jerry 
to CoL Wilks for $1350, and hoped that all parties 
would be satisfied with the arrangement 

Upon this\ announcement, a murmur of applause 
went through the crowd, and though there was no 
demonstration, it was evident the tables were turned, 
and that the bearing and bravery of this noble slave 
had told largely on the sympathies of the multitude. 

It was gratifying to Jarm to see respect and hom- 
age, so bravely earned, instinctively bestowed upon 
a fellow slave by white people. It was a lesson to 
his pride, and helped to nourish in him the already 
growing American sentiment, * Eesistance to tyiants 
is obedience to God.' 

Poor Jerry, bleeding and wounded as he was, came 
off victor in the battle. Every gash upon his body, 
and every drop of blood therefix)m, testified to his 
manliness, and furnished aliment to the ceaseless ter- 
ror of slave insurrections. Jarm, therefore, felt the 
victory was partiy his own, and almost envied poor 
Jerry when he saw Col. Wilks supporting him to the 
littie cove in the brook, where the foot-washing 
slaves performed ablution preparatory to the sacred 
washing in the temple. There the good Colonel, 
with his face literally bathed in tears, washed Jerry's 
wounds until the cove blushed all over with his 
blood. " When the slave is brave," thought Jarm, 
" his liberty is secure." 

After Col. Wilks had oleansed the poor fellowi he 

204 J. W. LOGUKN. 

led him to his own house, provided for him nurses 
and comforts, \mtil his wounds were healed, and then 
placed him upoji an estate — ^telling him that so soon 
as he should return $1350, his cost price, he should 
be free. 

" A shocking day this has been on the Wilks es- 
tate," said Mr. Preston, while at supper with his fiim- 
ily that evening. 

" Why BO ?" inquired Mrs. Preston. 

" Don't you believe," said he, " that all the slaves 
on that estate are sold in different directions, without 
regard to families? — ^the children one way and the 
parents another ; and the brotl^ers and sisters anoth- 
er — ^perfectly regardless of the mind of the testator? 
And such a scene of distress I never saw before, and 
never intend to see again." 

Here. Mr. Preston commenced and detailed all the 
particulars of the day to his deeply sympathizing 
fiimily. When he came to the case of Jerry, whose 
wrongs and manliness he described minutely, partic- 
ularly emphasizing his noble daring, Susan broke in 
in upon him with the exclamation : — 

" Poor, brave fellow 1" 

" How cruel and wicked to treat people so 1" said 
one and all. 

" Ah !" said Mr. Preston, " neighbor Wilks made 
a bad mistake." 

"Why so?" 

" At one time he really did intend to emancipate 
his slaves ; and at last, perhaps innocently, because 
ignorantly, he changed his intent into a plan to keep 



tfaiein together in fiuniKes, as toeing the only practi- 
cal blessing; and now, every good he designed is 
lost, and their condition is dreadfiiL His duty was 
to emancipate his slaves himself. He had no right to 
intrust their freedom to any being under heaven. 
God made it a sacred trust to him, and he was bound 
to execute it — ^he had no power to transfer it. This 
blunder has cast a burden upon his spirit which will 
be difficult to bear." 

*• Do you believe the spirits of departed men know 
what is going on in this world ? — ^think you old Mr. 
Wilks saw the shocking things you saw at his old 
homestead?" ^ 

. " To be sure I do. That is the world of causes — 
this of effects. Angels or good men rejoice when 
men repent, and do what they can to make them re- 
pent. Of course they know what is going on. Dev- 
ils or bad men in the spirit, world feel and work the 
other way. Don't you remember that the angel, John 
was about to worship, said to him, * I am thy fellow 
servant and of thy brethren V &c. Good men in the 
other world "are companions and co-laborers with 
good men in this world — and so with bad men. We 
are unconscious of it as a general thing, because we > 
are gross and sensuous, and have sunk our spiritual 
in our natural senses — ^which is the fall. Now, men 
look outward through natural organs only, and see 
exterior and natural objects alone, and have no fac- 
ulty to perceive the principles which constitute the 
interior life and essence of those objects. They hard- 
ly know that they are spiritual beings — ^but death 

206 J. W. LOQUBN. 


will open their eyes, and show them where they uxo^ 
and who are their companions, co-laborers and ser- 

" Did a bad spirit, or devil, as such are called, put . 
it into the head of old Mr. Wilks to changfe his in- 
tention to free his slaves, or did he do it of his own 

" Most undoubtedly it was the work of a bad 

" How, then, is it the work of Mr. Wilks?" 

" It is not his work, nor is he responsible for it, un- 
less his love or life harmonized with the love or life 
of the devil who suggested it. Death separates a 
man from his sins of ignorance. K his spirit does 
not appro^ them, the impassable gulf lies between 
him and such sins. Sin adheres to those only who 
love it — ^it has no hold of those who hate it, though 
they have been misled to commit it." 

" Why, then, should it be difficult for Mr. Wilks 
to bear it ? If he is a good man, will not a oon- 
•sciousness that he is good make him happy — ^though 
he be a guiltless instnmient of mischief?" 

"My words deserve qualification. I said Mr. 
Wilks had burdened his spirit — the burden may be 
a blessed one, after all. It is not difficult to see that 
the greatest joy of the righteous consists in nullify- 
ing evils they have done, and in bringing good out 
of them, from a spiritual and heavenly stand point 
The happiness of Mr. Wilks does not result from his 
own conscious innocence of intent, but from the good 
he does for the injured. But mind you — ^the Good- 


ness is God's goodness, not his. It is uncreated, eter- 
nal, and flows into men as they are willing to receive 
and use it. Every good gift comes down from Heav- 
en. It is the essence of such goodness* to heal 
wounds and repair breaches. It is never passive, be- 
cause God is never passive. If Mr. Wilks is a good 
man, as I take him to be, then God is in his will in 
proportion as his will is good. In such case, God, 
who is goodness, works through him to accomplish 
his ends. So, you see, a good man is armed with the 
power of God himself to combat the enemies of 
goodness ; not the man — ^he is impotent to combat evil ; 
but the divine omnipotence incident to the goodness 
he welcomes into his 6oul, that does it. God does all 
the fighting. The fact that Mr. Wilks was thus mis- 
led, stimulates his will, which is his life, (for he who 
wills much lives much) to extinguish slavery — ^for 
God always inflows where there is a will to receive 
him. And thus the devil unwittingly brings slavery 
under the weight of the divine omnipotence. The 
devil can do nothing that is not useful — God permits 
nothing i^ his universe that is not useful, and the 
happiness of the good (so called) is in the act of per- 
forming uses. The present happiness of Mr. Wilks, 
therefore, consists in fighting slavery ; and he is, as 
you see, propelled to the fight by the devil himself. 
* In vain do the heathen rage I' " 

" Then what you call a burden to Mr. Wilks, is 
only a motive to influence his action ?" 

" That is it. It is a burden from the fact that he 
was instrumental to the mischief So, you see, the 

208 J. W. LOGUBN. .' 

very burden is itself instrumental to the only happi- 
ness of an angelic spirit, to wit, doing good to oth- 

" I want to know one thing," said Lottie. " What 
is the reason Mr. Wilks was not right in his form of 
worship ? He did as the Lord did and commanded." 

" So the Lord commanded we should eat his flesh 
and drink his blood." 

"What did the Lord mean, then, by washing his 
disciples' feet, and commanding them to wash each 
other's feet?" 

" Ah, my dear little one, you are just as wise as 
Peter was. When the Lord would wash his feet,' he 
said to Peter, VWhat I do thou knowest not now, but 
shall know hereafter.' " 

"But Peter told the Lord he should not wash his 

"Just because he was ignorant of the meaning of 
the thing, as you aiid most people are." 

"Well, what did it mean ?" 

" Precisely what the same thing meant in the Jew- 
ish Church and from Adam down. Jehovah reinstitu- 
ted it for the Jewish Church, and they did not under- 
- stand it any better,* nor so well, as you and Peter — 
for they really supposed there was merit in the cere- 
mony. The fact is, it is the expression of a great 
truth in the symbolic language of the most aficient 
people — Q, language which ^ preserved in both the 
Old and New Testaments, and from Adam to John 
the Evangelist. The corporeal man walks with his 
feet. They are the instruments of liis will. There- 


fore, the term *feet' among the Ancients, symbol- 
ized his spiritual walk or life. So water corrresponds 
to truth — ^and if a man's walk or life is in obedience 
to truth, his feet are said to be washed by the Son of 
Man, who is the Divine Truth itself. In such case, 
his will being the motive power of the feet, directs 
them in charity. Therefore the Lord said, * He that 
is washed needeth not save to wa>sh his feet — ^but is 
clean every whit.' And therefore he repHed to Pe- 
ter, * K I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me.' 
If a man's will is right, he will walk or live rigfit — 
, he will keep his feet clean. If men attend to their 
feet, -they may be sure their heads are right Not the 
opinions or doptrines, but the walk or lives of men, 
makes them partners with Christ. There is much head 
rdigion now, but precious little feet religion. Men 
are careM of their brains, and let their feet go to the 

" Why could not the Lord have told Peter and the 
others what the thing meant iu plain terms? Why 
not say it right out, and not use signs which he knew 
they did not understand ?" 

"The disciples themselves were not prepared to 
receive the great truth this hieroglyph contained. It 
was therefore a cloud to their nunds. They had not 
received the influx of the Holy Spirit which was to 
illuminate them and show them all things. The 
Lord, therefore, preserved and protected *the word' 
in the antediluvian language. This is the reason he 
so often says, * Clouds and darkness are roimd about 
nim.' He is *thc truth/ and for wise reasons he 

210 J. W. LOGUEN. 

'makes the clouds his garment' — ^that is, he covers 
the truth of the word in letters which are a cloud to 
the minds of men. In this sense, innumerable pas- 
sages, such as these, are iutelligible — * The glory of 
the Lord appeared in a cloud,' — * The Lord descend- 
ed in a cloud,' — * The Lord appeared to Moses in a 
a cloud,' — ' His strength is in the clouds,' — * He binii- 
€th up the waters (which are the truths of the word) 
* in clouds,' — * He makes the clouds his chariot,' — 
*The Son of Man will come in the clouds,' — 'A 
cloud received him out of their sight,' &c., &c. Veiy 
few people now believe that Christ comes or goes in 
literal clouds ; but great multitudes begin to see that 
when they quarrel about the letter of the word (the 
garment of Christ) the Lord himself disappears in 
the clouds. The progress of knowledge has opened 
the understandings and wills of many to see 'The 
Truth,' THE SON OF MAN, • illuminating the letter of 
the word, which to them is his second coming ' with 
po^er and great glory.' " 

" You say he makes the clouds his garment — ^had 
the Lord, allusion to that fact or symbol when he said, 
' They parted my garments among them, and for my 
vesture did they cast lots?' " 

" Precisely. The garment is the letter of the word. 
This, *the soldiers,' the sects, divide among them; 
but * the vesture ' is the true internal sense and mean- 
ing. They gamble for that, or in Scripture language, 
cast lots for it, and thus disperse the truths of the 
Church ; but they cannot reach it — therefore it re- 
mains unprofaned and seamless." 


" That is very beautiful 1 — ^but how are we to see 
Ohrist coming in the clouds?" 

"It is a perception of the internal and spiritual 
truth which the letter of the word encloses or 
swathes. Perception is a divine coming or influx in- 
to the imderstanding or intellectual faculty — ^illumi- 
nating the letter of the Scriptures, awakening genius 
to discoveries in science, prompting inventions to 
benefit industry, and stimulating -humane combina- 
tions, for the relief of the poor, the dnmken and the 
enslaved, and the like. These are the tender branches 
of the budding fig-tree, indicating divine illumina- 
tion. The fig-tree, in Bible language, represents the 
natural good of truth, as the Olive does the celestial 
and spiritual good thereof. Because the fig-tree bore 
no fiuit — ^no natural good — ^the Lord cursed it. So 
when * her branch is tender and putteth forth leaves,' 
he has taught us that these temporal blesssings will 
manifest his coming in the clouds or letter of his 
word. Christ comes to the minds of men, and is Been 
by mental eyes. The clouds are in the way now, 
Iwt they are lighting up." 


The last two chapters give a character of daily life 
at Mr. Preston's, for the two or three years Jarm lived 

212 J. W. LOGUEN.' 

there. It was a regular succession of industry, amuse- 
ment and instruction. Before he came there, he de- 
lighted to spend his evenings abroad with young col- 
ored people in the amusements and dissipations of 
slave life; but now his inducements were at home, 
and he wanted no companions but those he found 
there. Manasseth Logue had so long 'neglected his 
claim to him, that his demand was becoming stale, and 
the Preston's hoped he had abandoned it. Jarm made 
up his mind to be a fixture in this good family for life. 
Alice had just taken on herself the duty of teaching, 
him letters, and it seemed to be mutually understood 
that he had grown into the family, and was not to be 
separated from it. 

On a fine spring's morning, some two and a half or 
three years from the time Jarm came there, very near 
the conclusion of one of those table-talks, such as is 
given in the last chapters, three large and rough men 
rode to Mr. Preston's, dismounted and fastened their 
horses, and, after knocking at the door, were invited 
in. Their aspect and motions were of the bully stamp, 
veneered with the artificial civilities of southern man- 
ners. There was a monitory shudderi ig felt all 
through this innocent and happy family. Jarm, es- 
pecially, felt thei presence as a touch of evil. Their 
looks indicated violent men, associated for a violent 
end ; and though no weapons were visible, it was ob- 
vious they were prepared for war. 

" It is Mr. Preston, I suppose," said one who seem- 
ed to be spokesman of the trio. 

" My name is Preston." 


" You have possession rff a boy called Jarm, who 
was mortgaged to you by Manasseth Logue, to secure 
the pajrment of $550, with interest, some two and a 
half or three years since." 

"Yes, sir." 

" I. have come to pay the mortgage for Mr. Logue, 
and take the boy back to him. There is $550 in gold 
and silver, the amount of the principal. The servi- 
ces of the boy, by the terms of tha agreement, you 
were to have in heu of interest ; the money has been 
counted by these two gentlemen, and it is the true 

" Pardon me, sir," said Mr. Preston, " I am not ac- 
quainted with you, and though what you say may be 
strictly true, in a matter of this importance, I ought to 
have legal evidence that you are the agent or attorney 
of Mr. Logue, before I commit property of such value 
to a stranger." 

" Very right, sir ; there is my authority to repre- 
sent Mr. Logue in this case," said the man, at the same 
time putting in to the hands of Mr. Preston a paper, 
which he opened, and read as follows : 

" To whom it may concern. Know ye, I have ap- 
pointed, and by these presents do appoint the bearer, 
James Nesbit, my agent and attorney, for me and in 
my name to pay and cancel a certain personal mort- 
gage, dated which Mr. St Clair Preston holds 

upon my boy Jarm to secure the payment of a loan 
of $350. And I hereby authorize my said attorney 
to (leniand and receive the said boy of said Preston, 
and do every thing in law that I can or could do in 
the premises. Dated, &c., 

Manasseth Logub. 

214 J. W. LOGUEK. 

State of Tennessee^ &o — 

Personally appeared before me, 
this day of Manassetli jLogue, to me per- 
sonally known, and acknowledged that he executed 
and delivered the above power of attorney, for the 
uses and purposes therein exipressed. 

James Pillow, Judge, &o. 

Before this conversation began, Jarm left the room 
and entered the kitchen, and Charley and the girls 
Boon followed. The disappearance of Jarm awakened 
the suspicions of the visitors, and at the wink of the 
leader, his twocompanioDS stepped into the court yard 
and took positions to see any one who left the 
house. They did not know Jarm personally, but had 
no doubt of the man. 

The impassioned dialogue of these disturbed and 
terror-stricken young friends, in the kitchen, must be 
left to the conceptions of the reader* Jarm, however, 
was silent and tearful. His teeth were firmly set, and 
his countenance told equally of sadness, determination 
and resistance. His only reply to their numerous ex- 
pressions of concern, was, 

" Don't be disturbed ; it is impossible to escape now. 
These bad men are armed with pistols. They are 
probably provided with irons ; it is prudent to seem 
to be submissive. You must not be implicated in my 
wrongs ; alone, I can bear them; half of them would 
crush me if the other half were on you. But mark 
me I I will not be a slave. My grief is that I must 
leave you." Here his lips quivered and his voice fell, 
but his prudence checked the surging sorrow, and 
with clenched fists, and swelling bosom, and cletcrmin^ 

JAEM dURKKl!n)£fi£D. 216 

ed empliasis, wliich shook hia whole frame, he repeat* 
ed in a low voice, " if I live, I will be free ; I will 
ttot be a slave I" 

" When Mr. Preston had finished reading the pow- 
er of attorney, he returned it to Mr. Nesbit and said^ 
" it seems sufficient. If you take Jarm you will leave 
it with me of course." 

" Certainly." 

" Mr. Logtte let his claim lay so long we began to 
inspect he had abandoned it." 

" Great mistake. He values Jarm $1,000 at least, 
and is far from parting with him for half the sum." 

" I can hardly think be will demand all that. My 
femily are much attached to him, and for that reason 
1 would pay any reasonable sum to retain him." 

" Impossible I" said the pian doggedly. " To tell 
the truth, Mr. Logue is displeased with the mode Jarm 
has been living here, and wiU not sell him to you on* 
any terms." 

" I am sorry Mr. Logue's feelings are unfavorable. 
It is true, Jarm has been useful to us and is an excel* 
lent fellow. I have treated him accordingly, and my 
family are loth to part with him ; nor will they if they 
may retain him on reasonable terms." 

"Altogether impossible! you may depend on't; at 
all events, if it is possible, you will have to treat with 
Logue. I have no authority of that sort ; my duty is 
to take the boy and return him. That was him I sup* 
pose, who went into the oilier room just now." 

"Yes, sir." 

216 J. W. LOGUEN. 

" Then there is your money and my authority U* 
take him, and I demand Jarm." 

" Of course I submit to the law and wait an early 
opportunity to confer with Mr. Logue in the matter ; 
my legal rights are at an end, and I have nothing 
more to say." 

The man bared his pistols, and was about opening 
the door into the room where Jarm and the femily 

"Stop," said Mr. Preston, "you will terrify my 
daughters. Please be seated. I will deliver Jarm to 
you, and guarantee you shall have no difficulty. Let 
me go and see him." 

The man bowed politely. 

" Certainly sir. All right sir." 

Mr. Nesbit resumed his seat and spirted his tobacco 
juice into the fire, while Mr. Preston repaired into the 
other room, where all the family were collected. He 
entered in time to catch the last words of Jarm's above 

" I presume you know what these people are here 
for," said Mr. Preston to Jarm. 

" O, yes. I am to be taken back to my old master. 
It is a dreadful disappointment ; but I made up my 
mind to submit to it at once, and look to future possi- 
bilities for deliverance." 

" Your conclusion is wise ; we all love you Jarm, 
(here sighs and sobs were heard all around the board) — 
hush I" said Mr. Preston, " we must not let these men 
know how deeply they have afflicted us ; nor show 
them any signs of it, if possible." Turning to Jarm, 


he said, "You need no other proof than you see 
around you now, and have always witnessed since you 
have been with us, that we love you ; nevertheless, I 
have it in my mind to deliver you, if possible, fix)m 
your bad case. You have gained our hearts by your 
qualities and conduct, and I shall be prompt to be- 
friend "you." Mr. Preston gave Jarm his hand as a 
pledge of fidelity, and added — 

" Now we must be brief; good-bye, Jarm; my wife 
and children had best part with you here. I am sor- 
ry to say you need to do it at once, and prepare to 
leave with these men." 

Having said this, Mr. Preston returned to Nesbit, 
and the family embraced their friend and bade him 
good-bye, with tearful eyes and failing voices. The 
scene was soon closed. The family never left the room 
imtil Jarm was packed and started away. They could 
not show themselves to the rujB&ans who had robbed 
them of their Mend and companion. Jarm parted 
with them and appeared before the agent with his bag- 
gage, and said he was ready. 

At this moment Mr. Preston said to Nesbit : 

*• You are prepared to put irons on Jarm, I sup- 
pose ?" 

"0, yes. The inference was the boy had been 
spoiled by you and your family, and might attempt 
to escape ; therefore we brought the tools to secure 
him ; indeed we always carry the tools with us ?" 

" I want to ask one favor of you. I know there is 
no necessity of using those irons. Jarm has been a 
faithful boy since he lived with us. Mr. Logue will 

218* J. vr. LOGUEN* 

certamly find him improved^ not injured. My fiimily 
would be very sorry to see him go away in irons, and 
therefore I pledge you my honor as a man, that I 
will pay double damages for all losses that may occur 
from allowing him to return without shackles. He 
may walk or ride, with you or without you, and I am 
bound he shall return to his old master with all rea- 
sonable expedition. Mr. Logue shall sufifey no more 
harm in allowing him to return alone, than he did in 
sending him here alone* This I guarantee, upon the • 
honor of a gentleman, and the strength of my estate.'* 

"I am happy to oblige you," said Nesbit. " There 
is a mistake about this business. You are a gentle- 
man, sir ; I am a rough man, but know a hard case 
as soon as I get my eyes on it. I knew you were 
none of that sort the moment 1 saw you, and the short 
time I have been here gives me a high opinion of 
you. Old Manasseth has made a blunder this time. 
Jarm shall have a free passage home, and I shall rep- 
resent his case and your case, So as to restore you and 
Jarm to his confidence." 

" Thank you* Please accept this," handing Mr. 
Nesbit a half eagle, " as a signal of good will, and a 
happy termination of our afiairs." 

Mr. Preston understood such- fellows, and therefore 
knew that a, trifling bribe would be twenty times its 
value in restoring Jarm to the confidence of Lis mas- 
ter, by means of the representations of Nesbit. 

" Jarm, you may leave your duds with us and go 
ahead," said Nesbit, as he opened the door into the 


ootirt yard, " we have an errand a little off the road, 
but we vrill overtake you or be home before you." 

Jarm roused all the strength of his heart as he rais- 
ed his hat to Mr. Preston and said " good bye," but 
in spite of him the big tear welled up under his eye- 
lids, and his counterfeit voice failed of its intended 
emphasis ; but when he turned to close the gate be- 
hind him into the street, and saw in the window the 
feces he was to see no more, all full of emotions he 
was attempting to suppress, his head fell by the weight 
of sorrow, and he turned and wept like a child as he 
walked away, turning again once only, while in sight, 
to drink througlf his eyes a last draft of agony from 
the loving hearts who were looking after him, from 
the only spot on earth which was now precious to 

" Boys," said Nesbit to the the two men in the yard, 
" let Jarm pass. It is all right ; I have arranged with 
Mr. Preston that he shall be delivered safely. We 
have an errand at George's, you know," giving the 
wink. " Good bye, Mr. Preston." 

" Good morning," said Mr. Preston, as he closed the 
door and retreated to his family. 

" How is this ? Here is quite a change of afl&irs," 
said one." 

"This yellow boy is a part of the explanation," 
said Nesbit, as he tossed the gold Mr. Preston gave 
him. "It is an ample check for a draft of George's 
best whiskey, and good evidence that Preston is not 
the scamp old Manasseth takes him to be. It aint the 
first time the old scoot has been fooled. Preston is as 

220 J. W* LOGUEN. 

good a man as ever buckled ; and as for Jarm, he i» 
as true a fellow, you may depend on it. I would trust 
him for wit or honesty any time, before I would his 
master. The fact is, Manasseth made a blessed bar- 
gain for himself and Jarm too, when he mortgaged 
him to Prestou. He has made a first rate nigger of 
him, and Manasseth would have spoiled him, had he 
kept him." 

" Then you ain't afraid to let the boy go back 

^ " Pshaw, no. Old Preston's word is better than the 
Bank, and the ^^ict that he has given it, is the best in- 
dorsement a nigger can have in thesefdiggins. Every 
body knows him, and he must be a bad nigger indeed 
who is faithless to him after living with him two or 
three years." 

"Why. so?" 

" Because he is reasonable, kind, just, merciful and 
everything else a man should be. I have heard the 
same said of him for years. Old Manasseth is the first 
I ever heard speak ill of him, and I have no doubt 
he was poisoned by some rogue. I need no more 
than the brief time I had with him to know he is not 
over-estimated by the public. To tell the truth, his 
face, yes, and voice, had so much goodness and chari- 
ty in them, that I was unhorsed— completely awed 
and floored. I tell you what, boys, If I was to live 
with that man two years, I believe I should be a good 
man myself. I feel that I am a good deal better for 
this interview." 

" Pshaw !" said one " I saw much more to like in 

jarm's soliloquy. 221 

the girls than I did in the old man. I but squinted 
at him ; but by Jippers I I couldn't keep my eyes off 
them while they staid in the room." 

"O, you rogue; you didn't see enough to get a 
slight impression of the merits of that family. I tell 
you a white man or a black man can't live in it with- 
out growing good. It seems as if we had been dis- 
turbing a little heaven." 

" I guess a drop of George's whiskey will cure all 
the disturbance it has made upon our souls." 

"D — ^n the whiskey! To go from Preston's to 
George's is like passing out of Paradise into a hog 


" Well ; here we are I Shall we go in among the 
swine, or stay here and dream of angels ?" 
Nesbit turned the gold in his had and replied : 
" Ah I you yellow rascal ! You are the root of all 
evil ! Here goes I" leading his follow companions in- 
to the drinkery. 


" This is too much — ^I cannot stand it. I could 
have lived there forever — ^I expected to have spent 
my days there. I desire nothing better than life with 
those good people. I can think of nothing worse 

222 J. W. LOGUBN. 

than to be driven back to my oH master and his 
family. I will not bear it — ^I will not be a slave. 
Henceforth I live to escape or perish I Had I sup- 
posed I was coming to this, I wonld have plotted 
with my friends and fled. I know they wonld have 
so advised if they anticipated this — and now, COME 


The fore part of the above speech passed in Jann's 
mind unuttered, as he was plodding his way to his 
old home from Mr. Preston's ; but the last sentence 
leaped out of his mouth, and he spoke it audibly and 
with emphasis — ^not dreaming any one heard him. 
Alice often told him * thoughts are heard in Heaven,' 
and there he was willing to be heard. But so filled 
was he with sad and indignant emotions, that he was 
unconscious of things about him, until awakened by 
^ hand on his shoulder that made him start. 

"Hallo, friend l-^-a little too loud. There are 
things a colored man may think, but not speak above 
his breath, until his eyes and ears assure him he is 
alone. What is up now ?" 

" You scare me !" ejaculated Jarm, as he grasped 
the hand of Mr. Wilkes Jerry, whose story we told 
along back. 

" What's the matter, my good fellow ? Where are 
you going ? Yoi; look sad — ^what's up ?" 

" Did you hear me say anything?" 

" Aye — aye, I heard you say a great deal in few 
words. * Henceforth, death or freedom' is not a 
long story, but it is a great deal for a slave to say, as 
loudly and unguardedly as you said it just now. I 


only dare repeat it in an under tone — not because I 
am more a coward than other folks, but because I 
may be overheard by a poorer friend than you are." 

" Jerry," said Jarm, looking him sadly and firmly 
in the face, " I know I may trust you. Did you ever 
think seriously of fleeing to a free State ?" 

" Think of it ! — ^I have been thinking of it for ten 
years. I think of it every day — I am thinking ot it 
to-day. K it was not for my poor wife and child, 
Tennessee would not hold me* a month." 

" Then you have a wife and child ? I determined 
long ago never to mart:y until I was free. Slavery 
shall never own wife or child of mine. I pity you." 

" I deserve it — they are the chains that hold me 
here. The links about my heart are stronger than 
the irons about my limbs. 'Were it not for the form- 
er, I would say as you did, * Henceforth, death or 
fl-eedom.' But where are you going ? — explain your- 

" I am going back to my old master — and what I 
want is to get into a free State and be free. I am de- 
termined — I am desperate !" 

" I thought you were to live with Mr. Preston al- 
ways ?" 

" I thought so, too." 

*^ You were happy there ?" 

" 0, too happy I I could have lived there forever. 
They are good people. The disappointment is great- 
er than I can bear, and I won't bear it. I won't live 
with my old master. The worst he and his helpers 
can do is to kill my body, and that will free my souL 

224 J. W. LOGUBN. 

I learned many valuable lessons with those good peo- 
ple, and that is one of them. I tell you, Jerry, I will 
make a strike for freedom, if I die for it. I had rath- 
er die than be a slave." 

" Well — ^but your mother, brothers and sisters — ^will 
you leave them?" 

" Yes. As your wife and child are the only chains 
that bind you, so my mother, brothers and sisters are 
the only chains that bind me. It is bad to be bound 
to slavery by irons, but it is worse to be bound to it 
by heart-strings. Thoge striogs will be stronger and 
sounder when I am clear of the incarnate devil that 
torments me and my family. I can do my mother, 
brothers and sisters no good while I am his slave — 
they can do nie none. Life is a constant looking for 
evil to come. Besides being personally abused and 
• outraged, we are liable to be sold apart forever, any 
moment. To be of any service to my mother or my- 
self, I must be free ; and I will be free, or die — bo 
help me God 1" 

" Jarm, you are right. Were it not for my obliga- 
tions to Col. Wilks, and prospect of buying myself I 
would join you in a moment." 

" Why not do it now ? What obligation is on you 
to buy yourself? Necessity may make it a duty and 
an obligation — ^but he is a villain who created that 
necessity. God gave you freedom, and Col. Wilks 
has no right to make conditions to the grant. You 
are just the fellow I need to co-operate with me ; you 
have prudence, courage, and strength — ^together we 
can make olir way to a free State, by endurance. 


stratagem, and bravery— I feel certam of it. In 
freedom, we may contrive for the deliverance of our 
kindred — ^aa slaves, we see notliing but helplessness 
and despair. We must be free. Think of this until 
we meet again, if you are not prepared to act now."- 

" That I'll do. indeed, I cannot help thinking of 
itj for the proposition sets my soul on fire ; but when 
I approach the subject, another thing stares me in 
the face." 

"What is that?" 

"Col. Wilks saved my life when those bloody 
tigers were murdering me." 

"What of that? He ought to have done more 
than that — ^he should have given you freedom, after 
all the money you have worked out for him with 
your hard hands. Your claim on him is infinitely 
greater than that he should not stand by and see 
you murdered. Mind you, Wilks was the man that 
thrust you in among those tigers." 

" You are right, Jarm. I see it, but he dont — and 
the white people all around won't see it. It is so, I 
know ; but after all, a sense of honor presses hard on 
me. I do owe life to him, that is a fact." 

"You owe him nothing, Jerry. You dishonor 
God who gave you Hfe, and to whom alone you are 
indebted for it, by talking as you do. Col. Wilks 
owes you freedom, without which life is a burden — 
and yet he demands of you money, a most unreason- 
able sum of money, before he allows you to have and 
enjoy it. Pretty story, that he and his feither may 
rob you all your life long, and then bring them wild 

22 G J. W. LOGUEN. 

beasts upon you, and make a merit of saving you out 
of their paws." 

" Jarm, we must parf here — ^I'll think the matter 
over. Do you know John, of the Famey estate?" 
. " I know him well." 

" He's the man to engage in this affair." 

** Exactly." 

"We'll see him. Good bye,^ — ^and thus they 

Jarm was five miles from the Tombigbee. As a 
matter of prudence, he must seem to be glad to re- 
turn — though the thought was hateful, and stirred all 
the' desperate activities of his soul. He was soon 
there, and went through the ceremony of servile 
bows and counterfeit smiles to his master and mis- 
tress, and other false expressions of gladness. His 
mother, brothers, sisters and friends greeted him with 
tears of joy. Nesbit and his party had preceded him, 
and given Manasseth a high opinion of his improve- 
ment and abilities, and he was readily installed the 
confidential servant and head man of the plantation. 

Nor did he dishonor the station. His stay with 
the Preston's was to him a school of agricultural edu- 
cation, and he was eminently fitted to the trust. Un- 
der him the farm was put in better order than it had 
ever been — ^the fences were repaired or built anew — 
the grounds were prepared in seasom for the seed, and 
the budding grain and grasses and fruits promised 
an abundant harvest. Jarm affected the same care 
for the interests of the plantation tiiat he would for 
his own, and this obtained from his master the great- 


est confidence, kindness and indnlgenee that a surly, 
selfish, drunken man can feel or allow to a cherished 
and valued chattel. 

Of course aU this industry and care on the part of 
Jarm, was adroitly counterfeited as a means to an 
end. Under cover of it, he was plotting to run 
away, and the hope of success only made it endurable. 
He felt now how unfortunate it was the Prestons 
had not anticipated his case, and informed him of the 
way to a fi-ee State — o, piece of knowledge he valued 
above all things. 

In the neighborhood of Manasseth's dwelt a family 
of poor whites, who, originally of Tennessee, had 
lately returned fi-om Illinois, where they had emigra- 
ted, because they preferred Tennessee, or because 
they had not the means to get a possession and meet 
the difiiculties of their enterprise. 

This family resided some three years in Illinois, 
and the eldest child, now a boy about ten years old, 
often came in contact with Jarm. The family were 
very poor, and though white, had no means to claim 
superiority to an influential and trusty slave. 

" How you have grown, John 1" said Jarm to the 
lad. " Where have you been this long time ?" 

" I have been up to Illinois — ^we .have all been 
there this two or three years." 

"Where is that?" 

"I shan't tell you." 

"Pshaw! you don't know yourself— there ain't 
any such place as Illinois." This was the first time 


Jarm had heard of Illinois, and ho meant to sifb the 
geography and character of it from the lad, 

" I say there is such a place I — don't you think I 

" What kind of a place is it, then ? Let us see if 
you can tell anything about it." . . 

"All the negroes are free in Elinois — ^they don't 
have any slaves there." 

" Did you see any free negroes in Illinois ?" 

" Yes, a good many." 

" What were they doing 

" Why, they lived with their families, like other 

"Which way from here is Illinois?" 

"Up that way," said the boy, pointing to the 

" How many days does it take to go there ?" 

" We were a good many days coming home — ^but 
a man could go there on horse-back in less than a 

"Do you have to cross rivers ?" 

"0 yes, a good many — the Ohio Eiver lays be- 
tween Illinois and Kentucky. You have to go over 
that in a boat. It is a great river, and vessels are 
sailing up and down it all the while, except in the 
winter — ^then it is frozen over, and sometimes the 
boys skate on it, and horses and sbighs pass over on 
the ice." 

Many other questions Jarm put to the boy, and 
elicited all he could of life in Illinois. He did not 
doubt the boy's truthftdness. The story charmed 


him, and he made up his mind to prepare to go there, 
where he might go and come as he pleased, and earn 
a house and home and farm with his own strength 
and mind. 

About a mile from Manasseth's plantation was an 
pld building, made of logs and slabs and boards 
rudely put together, for a school house, and meeting 
house for the methodists to hold meetings in. The 
floors consisted of hewed timbers, and the roof was 
covered with boards — swallows and wrens built their 
nests and chattered and warbled to their young in 
the roof and beams — while the bats huddled in the 
comers or hung in swarms from the rafters in the 
day time. This site was selected for the rough tem- 
ple on account of its retired and wild position. The 
sect who fixed it up have a penchant for the forest, 
where "nature worships God in solitude, alone." 
The site of this building was flanked on the West 
and North by a formidable ridge of rocks, covered 
with vegetable mould which had been growing for 
ages, until it sustained stunted viues and bushes. 
Little streams of pure water enriched the sunbeams 
as they danced down its sides and sank into the 
gloomy woods, and formed a little brook at its base, 
in which small trout played to the very edge of the 

Some quarter of ^ mile from this solitary temple, 
a huge flat rock projected from the mountain and en- 
tirely covered the little brook. It entered the moun- 
tain like a gigantic shaft, and descended towards the 
earth in an angle of about forty-five degrees, until 

230 J. W. LOGUEN. 

its outer circTimference dwindled to an edge a few 
feet from the surfaee of the brook, and spread over 
its entire breadth. This rock supported a thick fleece 
of aged moss, tightly woven with roots of green 
shrubbery which hung like a heavy blanket from its 
outer edge, and covered. the water two rods or more, 
the breadth of the shaft. Under this cold roof lay a 
broad dark cavern, a fit retreat for wild beasts and 
Bavage men. 

Some eighteen months after Jarm left Mr. Pres- 
ton's, in a bright moonlight evening, after the sun 
had disappeared about half an hour behind the 
mountain, a solitary man merged from the dark 
woods and stood before this sylvan sanctuary'. The 
shades of the mountain and forest intercepted the 
moonlight and concealed his identity and color. His 
deep, broad chest and frame, erect head, elastic, care- 
fiil and firm step, evinced a great amount of strength, 
and his motions indicated that his eyes and ears were 
on the watch for some expected person or thing. He 
was about six feet high, a trifle below the height of 
Jarm, and somewhat broader. His anatomical pro- 
portions were compactly bound together with abun- 
dant muscle, showing, even in moonlight, evidence of 
great personal strength. 

The man had been looking about a short time, 
when he heard the sticks crack under the cautious 
but heavy tread of another, whose large body ap- 
peared in sight, and stood a moment like a black pic- 
ture on a dark back ground. He looked about him, 
and then gave a shrill whistle, which was instantly 


replied to by the first comer, as a signal of recogni- 
tion and safety. 

"Well, Jolm, you are here before me," said Jerry, 
as he heartily locked hands with the first comer. 

" Yes, I have been here some minutes. Where is 

The reader will recognize in John the person spo- 
ken of by Jerry when Jarm was returning from Mr. 

"Jarm will surely come. The meeting was ar- 
ranged by him, and he never fails." 

" Of course, nothing will prevent him. If his 
master does not, he will be here in five minutes." 


" There is something commg !" 


" There he is — ^it is a man — ^it is Jarm 1" 

Whistle answered whistle again, and the parties 
were immediately together. 

" Here we are," said Jarm, " now for business." 

" Talk low." 

" Shall we go into the house ?" 

"No — ^better be heard here than there. If the 
white niggers find us there, they will be sure there is 
something in the wind. Follow me." 

Jarm led them down the brook a quarter of a mile 
or so, and entered the cavern before described. 

" Here we shall be neither seen or heard," said 
Jarm, as he struck up a light. " I lead you here be- 
cause we shall need a place of deposit as well as con- 
ference, by and by, where we can be neither seen or 

232 J. W. LOGUEN. 

Heard by anyone not in .the cave itself, and whicli is 
probably unknown in the neighborhood." 

"This is a beautiful place for our business," ex- 
claimed both .of his companions. 

" If we determine to quit thi3 coumtry for Tllinois, 
or other place where masters can't wrong us," said 
Jarm, " and my mind is made up and has been a 
long time — we shall need a place not only to talk 
about it, but to deposit things necessary for our 
journey as we may get them. And now, boys, 
what say you to the main question — shall we go ?** 

"I shall go if I go alone," said John. "Come 
what will, I am resolved to get out of this country — 
life is worth nothing here. I had rather lose it in an 
attempt to escape, than to be eternally dying — ^that is 
my mind in the matter." 

" I am with you," said Jerry. " The only trouble 
with me is my wife and children, and the means to 
be off, as I have often told you. But I am fixed — 
my wife and children are free — and if I get my free- 
dom, they may come to me. I can do little or noth- 
ing for them here." 

" One point is settied, then," said Jarm. "We are 
agreed to escape — ^that point is easy to arrive at — oth- 
ers are not so easy. It remains to know what pro- 
visions will be needed for the journey, and how we 
shall get them, and when and how to get off." 

"We must have each of us a good horse, saddle 
and bridle, large saddle-bags of provisions and cloth- 
ing, and an amount of money," said John. 


" Yes, and we will need firee passes, if we can find 
any body to counterfeit them." 

In all these respects they allowed they were nearly 
or quite destitute, and that it woidd require time to 
make the preparations. 

Jarm and John said, as to horses, saddles and bri- 
dles they were at ease. Each of their masters owned 
a crack young * saddle horse of great value, whicji 
they much petted, and which were in their special 
care, and they often rode them in company on short 
excursions. They were of course acquainted with 
the abilities and habits of the noble animals. But 
their clothing, provisions and money, required time, 
care and industry to procure. 

" May be it will be a year before we finish these 
preparations. In the mean time if our masters sell 
their horses, they will get others — and if they don't 
have others, there are a plenty of good horses among 
the man robbers all around, and we must take the 
best we can lay our hands on." 

" It will be hard," said Jerry, shaking his head — 
" indeed it is impossible for me to take Col. Wilks' 
horse — it seems to me I shall forfeit my life if I do it 
I owe something to the Colonel for saving me from 
those murderers. I cannot feel justified in rewarding 
it by running away with his property. You will 
take your own when you take your master's horses, 
or anything else they have — their lives, even. Not 
so with me — ^I must get a horse elsewhere. The 
memory (of what, under the circumstances, would be 
deep ingratitude) would torture me, and make my 

234 J. W. LOGUEN. 

life a burden, did I turn my hands agatost the Colon- 
el and his property. I could not bear it — ^I won't do 

" All right — ^there is much reason in what you say. 
Did you take the Coloners horse, or anything else of 
his, (yourself excepted) it would be used as an argu- 
ment against our honour and justice. We should 
avoid doing that which will make them regret hav- 
ing done us favors. It will look better if you leave 
the Colonel's horse &om a sense of gratitude, and 
take the horse of that villain Myrrick, who lives 
near him, and abuses his slaves so. There will be a 
meaning in the act which slaveholders will under- 
stand. The transaction will speak for our virtues. 
Though Col. Wilks is indebted to you beyond the 
value of all his horses, you are right, and wise in 
principle and policy, in your conclusions." 

To the above sentiment all conceded. 

"Well, then, we understand each other," said 
Jarm; "and for aught I see, the business of the 
evening is finished, and we may go home and plan 
to execute it." 

" By the way," said John, " you know Eoss, the 
poor, good old man, who lives on the corner of the 
. woods by Col. PiUows ?" 

" Of course I know him — everybody knows him. 
While one hand was busy pouring a large estate 
down his throat, the other was equally busy giving it 
to the poor." 

" He is the black man's counsellor and firiend." 

" Yes, and the white man's, too. Poverty will do- 


grade any other man in Tennessee but Ross — ^his 
qnalitiea keep him out of the reach of disgrace. 
Drunkard as he was, and poverty -smitten as he is, 
the whites love him for his nobleness, the blacks for 
his goodness.'* 

" Won't he counterfeit a pass for us ?" said Jarm. 

" Of course he will — ^I have no doubt of it But 
we must pay hiih for it." 

" Pay him I — ^yes, liberally. He has wife and chil- 
dren who need bread and meat ; and it will cost us 
nothing — ^that is, it will cost John and me nothing to 
get them for him. Our masters have robbed us of 
the fruits of our labor, and filled their bams and 
smoke-houses therewith. We have nothing to do but 
to take it and pay our debts with it. We can af- 
ford to supply his family with bread and bacon for 
six months, if he will make each of us a pass." 

" Wow this thing must be attended to. John, you 
know how to manage the card with Ross — ^he lives 
on your land, or near it — will you do it ?" 

" Indeed I will ; and trust me I will do it right, 
and neither of you will be committed until the time 

" Now, then, let us go home — ^it is getting late. 
We shall meet again on the Sabbath, and in the meaiv 
time, if either has anything new, it is easy to fiiul 
the others and give it to them." % 

Thus ended the first conference of these young 
men in regard to their escape. They walked t():,^( tli- 
er a little distance to the highway, and tliciv j):.!i' •! 
ill the direction of their homes. When liiev aiii\»..'.l 

236 J. W. LOGUEN. 

there and lay down on their beds, the reflection that 
they were committed to each other, and to a measure, 
which, if pursued, would give them freedom, or send 
them in chains to the far South, or to the grave, kept 
them from immediate sleep. As each reflected on 
the peril of the case, he felt the embryo stir of a 
noble manliness, which, for a long time, resisted the 
advance of " nature's sweet restorer." 


The subject that now occupied Jarm's mind was 
to get money to run away with. One plan was to 
purchase a barrel of whiskey, and retail it at profita- 
ble prices. One afternoon, soon after his compact 
with his two friends, Manasseth and his wife went to 
visit their preacher, whose term had expired, and who 
was to leave for another place on the circuit the next 
day. Jarm embraced that opportunity to use his 
master's oxen and cart to bring from the distillery a 
barrel of whiskey, and place it on the premises out 
of his master's sight, where he might retail it and 
make money. 

But the misfortune was, he was unable to complete 
the thing before his master's return. When Manass- 
eth came home about eleven o'clock at night, he saw 


lii3 team and cart were missmg ; and scarqely had he 
made the discovery, ere he saw Jarm coming at a 
distance with them. Supposing he was imseen by 
Jarm, he skulked in a comer of the fence, to watch 
Ids actions and get his secret. But Jarm was familiar 
with every object about, and with a keen eye on the 
look-out, saw at a distance the black spot in the fence, 
and scented his condition at once. 

Here was a grave disappointment. He knew he 
should have a flare-up with his master, but by no 
means anticipated so serious a flare-up as the one he 
had. He supposed his master would rob him of his 
• whiskey and get drunk on it — ^that he had made a 
bad speculation, and should be badly scolded, and 
that would end the matter. 

Jarm drove his team past his master, while he was 
hid as aforesaid, in a natural and usual manner — ^pass- 
ed the place where they w.ere to be turned out, direct- 
ly to tJie negro-house, and there rolled out his whis- 
key and deposited it under the floor, and returned to 
put out his oxen. 

" Where have you been with my oxen ?" said Ma- 
nasseth, getting out from the fence. 

"I have been down to the distillery to get a barrel 
of whiskey. 

" How dare you steal my team to do your work ?" 

" Had you been here I supposed you would let me 
have the oxen ; I did not suppose I should displease 
you. Had I so supposed, I would not have taken 

"I'll loam you to steal my team and go off in that 

288 J. W. LOGUEN. 

way I Turn them into the lot — ^I will see you in the 

And so Jarm did, and went to bed himself— but 
not to sleep, for he feared the loss of his property, 
and a conflict with his master more or less serious. 
Tired nature eventually overcome his senses, and he 
fell into refreshing slumber — ^from which he was soon 
awakened by the light and stir of the morning. He 
arose and made his master's fire, and went into the 
field to work without waiting for breakfast. 

While in the act of making the fire, his master got 
up and left the house, and went straight to the woods 
and brought a bundle of whips, and laid them by the 
•tree which was his usual whipping post. In the 
meantime, he sent Jarm's little sister to bring him 
some ropes. While Ann, all imconscious of the use 
for which the ropes were intended, brought and de- 
posited them under the tree, Manasseth went to Jarm, 
who was working with great earnestness, and called 
him. Jarm affected not to hear. He called still 
louder, and Jo.rm, as if suddenly sensible of his mas- 
ter's presence, exclaimed : — 

" Did you call me, master?" 

" Yes, I called you. Why didn't you answer me ? 
I'll wake jou up I — ^follow me into the yard." 

Manasseth passed on to tl;ie place of execution, ^and 
Jarm followed. When Jarm come into the yard, his 
mad master stood there, with the cords in his hands, 
and the bundle of sticks at his feet. The only cloth- 
ing Jarm had on was his shirt and pantaloons. 

On his way to this place, Jarm reflected upon the 


possibility that his master would attempt to tie and 
flog him, and resolved, come what would, he would 
not submit to it He was willing he shoidd take him 
on the leg and whip as long as he pleased — giving 
him a chance to dodge the blows. But he firmly re- 
solved not to be tied and whipped by a mad m£|,n, or 
any other man* A few days before this he had a 
terrible experience on this point. 

A neighboring planter's slave, provoked by jeal* 
ousy, made a terrible assault upon him ; and Jarm 
was compelled, in his own defence, to give him seri- 
ous blows that disabled the assailant. Thereupon, 
the owner of the slave complained to a Justice of the 
Peace, and Jarm was convicted by the testimony of 
the jealous and perjured one, and sentenced to re- 
ceive thirty-five lashes on his naked back, and Ma- 
nasseth was adjudged to pay a sum in damages. The 
ridges on his back were still tender, and the agony in 
that case determined him never again to suffer mor- 
tal man to tie him up and flog him. 

" Take off your shirt, you black rascal ! Ill learn 
you to steal my oxen in the night and get whiskey I 
Off with your shirt I" 

Jarm folded his arms and looked his master fiill in 
the face, with a steady and firm gaze. 

" Don't stand there staring at me, you black dog I 
Off with your shirt, or I'll whip it off— hide and 

Jarm still stared and scowled at his master, but 
made no move to take off his shirt. 

240 J. W. LOQUEN. 

."You black scoundrel I — don't you mean to take 
ofif your sliirt ?" 

"No I" growled Jarm, with a voice more like a 
provoked lion than a man. 

Manasseth was now irritated beyond measure, and 
approaching Jarm' with a rope, his face and eyes 
flashing fire, cried out :— 

" Cross your hands, you rascal* *' 

Jarm stood firmly and silently as before, his large 
muscles crawling on his great folded arms, and his 
eyes fixed boldly and defiantly on his master, who, 
by this time, trembled with imcontroUable firenzy. 

" Cross your hands, or I'll take your life, you 

d d black dog 1" roared Manasseth, raising a large 

gad, and aiming a blow at Jarm's head with all his 

Jarm avoided the blow by a motion of his - head 
and body, and Manasseth, unable any longer to con- 
trol his passion, flew at his bold and indignant slave 
to collar him, muttering in his rage : — 

"Won't you cross your hands when I command 
you, you insolent rascal ?" 

Jarm growled out again, louder than before, a de- 
fiant " No I" At the same time he seized the mad 
man by the throat with one hand, and his breech 
with the other. 

" Let me go I — ^let me go 1" cried the terrified Ma- 
na.sseth, thunderstruck that his slave dare put hands 
on him. 

"I'll let you go, and I'll go myself!" growled 
Jarm, both hands still clenched into him as aforesaid, 


and placing his right knee to his breech to aid hia 
hands, he raised him from the ground and pitched him 
half a rod onto his head, turned on his heel, and ran 
for the woods. 

It is unnecessary to say that this transaction great- 
ly disappointed and embarrassed both parties. Jarm 
was in no condition to attempt an escape, and Manas- 
seth in no condition to dispense with his abilities and 
labors. This extraordinary and daring onset on him, 
opened his eyes to the positive, manly, and uncom- 
. promising character of his slave. The onset had not 
personally injured him, but it brought him to his 
senses. Jarm fled out of his sight, but his gigantic 
form, determined look, and courageous bearing, re- 
mained daguerreotyped on Manasseth's memory, and 
awakened his respect. He felt that, though in Jarm's 
hands he was as a child, he had only put him out of 
his way — ^rather rudely, to be sure — ^under tlie high- 
est provocation. To pursue and punish him, he saw 
would be to drive his chafed spirit to a desperate ex- 
tremity, and that he should thereby lose him. He 
concluded, therefore, not to pursue hira. Left alone, 
he believed Jarm would wander in the fields until his 
passions cooled, and then return to his labors, where 
he was greatly needed. 

Thus was Manasseth' disciplined to submission by 
the decision and bravery of his slave. Should all 
other slaves, or any considerable portion of them, 
manifest the saipe dignity and spirit, their masters 
would succumb to their manhood and give them free- 
dom, or treat them justlv — which, in effect, v^ to free 

242 J. W. LOGtJEir. 

them. Slavery can endure no longer tlian its victmw 
are submissive and servile* 

All ignorant was Jarm of the change in the mind 
and feelings of his master* On one pointy at least, he 
had made him a sensible'man ; but Jarm did not know 
it. He fled to the woodSj not doubting Manasseth wad 
stimulated to the highest point of passion, and that he 
would rally the slave-catchers to.hunt and shoot him j 
or, what was worse, return him to be scourged and 
tortured, and sold to Georgia. Of course he was in 
no condition to escape— he resolved, therefore, to go 
' directly to the cave, the only attainable place of secu* 
rily, and consider what he could do, and what he had 
better attempt. Though he did. not expect his project 
to escape would be so soon and seriously embarrassed, 
he did not regret that he had done what he did do. 
He hoped he had taught his master that to attempt to 
tie and flog him, was neither safe or wise, if he would 
retain him in his service. He had counted on* the 
profits he should derive from the sale of his whiskey 
to increase his little capital to run away with— and ho 
now concluded that the capital and profits together 
were sacrificed. 

Though some masters were ashamed to get drunk 
on their slaves' whiskey, he knew his master was af- 
flicted by no such delicacy. Eight well he judged on 
that point. That very day Manasseth filled his jug 
with Jarm's whiskey and got drunk with it. Indeed 
the liquor Was quite a pacificator, and through its 
taste and stimulus plead for Jarm. During all the time 
he continued away, it lay ut)on his mastered mind like 


It charm, and hdd him in a dozy and contented neg- 
ligence of Jarm arid his affairs. 

As has been before said, Jarm was in no condition 
to run away. He was without money or clothing be- 
side the shirt and pantaloons he had on. The coun- 
try, as he supposed, was notified of his elopement, and 
on a look out to take him. After examining the in- 
terior of the cave, as well as he could without light, 
and piling a quantity of leaves near its mouth, for a 
resting place, he threw himself upon it, and began to 
study what to do. He felt that he was without a mas- 
ter, but his freedom was uncomfortably circumscribed 
and inconvenient. It would be hard to live it twenty- 
four hours, as he was nearly destitute of clothing, and 
entirely destitute of food or the means to get any. 

His destitution determined him to find at once some 
reliable friend to assist him in his emergency. It was 
now the fore part of a warm day in the spring, but he 
dare not expose himself in the sunlight, and must 
wait for darkness to cover him before he sought that 
friend. He knew hunger would overpower him at 
noon, and torment liim until evening — and he could 
think of no antidote to its demands but roots and 

Never did Jarm rejoice more to see the sun go 
^ down than on that afternoon. So soon as the shades 
fairly covered the woods and fields, he took his course 
for John Farney's.. John's master's name was John 
Farney, and he named his slave John. Because he 
was believed to be the son of his rftaster, the colored 
people called him John Farney. Jarm started for 

2i4 J. W. LOGUEN. 

John's because he was more accessible than any other 
friend of his, and because he knew him to be true as 
Eteel, and a good counsellor in his case. He might ■ 
have gone home and awakened his sister and mother 
and obtained the articles he needed, but he knew it 
would be imprudent, and that John would do all he ' 

John supplied him with a tin cup, a blanket, a coat, 
tinder, flint and steel, (there were no Loco Foco 
matches in Tennessee then,) and what was more im- 
portant, a plenty of cold bacon and bread, and prom- 
ised to see his mother and sister and get his clothes. 
He also promised to meet him at the cave with Jerry 
so soon as it was convenient. He farther told him 
there was no noise or stir about his rencounter and 
escape, — and, indeed, it was altogether unknown at 
Farney's plantation. 

Famey lived about four miles from Manasseth, and 
he and his slaves were likely to be soon informed of 
the rencounter. Their ignorance of it, made Jarm re- 
flect that his master might have taken a different turn 
from what he expected. He went back to his solitary 
home, relieved and comforted. After lighting a pine 
knot with his flint and tinder, and eating a hearty 
supper of bread and bacon, and washing it down with 
water, he rolled up in his blanket on his bed of leaves, 
and instantly fell asleep, and so continued until late 
in the morning. The last two nights he slept little, 
and his anxiety and excitement were very oppressive, 
he lapsed into slumber most profound, and awoke not 
until the music of birds, and. the gurgling of the 


stream opened his ears, and the silver light oh the 
.surface of the brook opened his eyes to the foot, that 
the day was advanced, and that his bed-room, dark as 
Erebus in some places, would never be lighter. lie 
was ready dressed, but threw off his garments and 
plunged into the pure cold water at the foot of his 
cave, and then stept into the open air to feel the glo- 
rious sunlight, ere he sat down again to his solitary 
meal. His break&st was the same as his supper, and 
soon disposed o£ 


Jarm now began to realize his destitution. Having 
finished his first breakfast at the cave, after a night 
of excellent sleep, and a morning of refreshing ablu- 
tion, he remembered he was a prisoner. It was a 
dreary day to him. The beautiful sun shed its 
warmth and light, but not for him — ^his kindred and 
friends, driven to their tasks, might not come to him, 
, nor could he go to them. He might not be seen out 
of his hiding place. The clouds that slavery gather- 
ed in his soul were colder and darker than the day- 
night that filled his dungeon,.and he was borne down 
by a sense of unutterable injustice. He felt that it 
was bad to be poor, but insufferable to be so poor. 

246 J. W. LOGUEN. 

Had he, like the Ocean-tossed Selkirk, been stranded 
on an Island among birds and beasts which were 
unacquainted with man, his sonl might be content 
with external objects. Or had he, like the belov- 
ed desciple, been thrown into some Patmos, where 
body and soul were free, he might have been sensitive 
to the voice and touch of angels. But, alas I slavery, 
fiercer than the winds, and more cruel than the per- 
secutors of the Prophets, had driven him into the 
earth to shelter in perpetual "darkness. Could he 
have walked out during the day without exposure to 
unimaginable -wrongs — could he by any amount of 
carefulness have found his way to the Prestons, or 
even to friends near at hand — was he not obliged to 
be quiet in his cave, or skulk like a wild beast among 
the bushes, to avoid human eyes and savage blood- 
hounds — could he have dimly seen a way out of his 
discomfort and perils — ^if, to break the circle of pres- 
ent embarrassments, would not leave him in an 
impenetrable outer circle of woes on the planta- 
tion — if slavery had not, seemingly, driven him to 
the last extremity, and piled its insurmountable bil- 
lows around him, he had not been cast down as he 
was. It was, indeed, a dreary day to Jarm; and 
when the sun went down, his soul reached the bot- 
tom of its troubled waters. He could stand it no 
longer. The fountain of feeling and tears burst open, 
and* he fell upon the earth and prayed — 

" God, how long must I suffer? Pity, pity me, 
my Father, and deliver me from these wrongs. Is 
there not mercy in Heaven for a poor slave ? Help I 


help I O God, lor I am helpless I Leave me not thus 
wretched I" 

At this point, perfectly absorbed by his afflction, 
he was startled by a strong hand on his Moulder. 
At tne same time a kind and fitmiliar voice said to 
him: — 

" Hallo I pretty boy I Here you are, praying the 
Lord for help, and he has sent me, a poor creature, to 
do the trick." 

Jarm immediately sprang up and grasped the hands 
of Boss and John. The clouds departed, and the 
sunlight cheered his soul again. 

" How glad I am to see you I" said he. 

" Well, we come to make you glad. But what 
was you blubbering for when we came in ?" 

" Mr, Eoss, I have some pluck, and can bear grief 
BA well as most men, but I can't endure such a case 
as this. I think I can look my enemy in the face, 
and die fighting for my rights ; but to die in this 
way— to perish on the rack of my own mind, is im- 
possible. Oh, I have had a wretched day, and could 
Btand it no longer. Therefore you found me as you 
did, crying for help. I had no companion or com- 
forter on earth-r-why might I not seek one in Heav- 

*' You did right, and no doubt you found that com- 
panion and comforter, and he sent me, a forlorn old 
scoundrel, to help you." 

*^ Don't call yourself hard names — ^you are not a 
• scoimdrel.' If God uses scoundrels in works of 
goodness and mercy, it is in spite of them, and not 

248 J. W. LOGUEX. 

because they delight in goodness and mercy, as yon 
do. If you have the heart to do good, you have the 
heart of a Christian ; and the good that is in you will 
overcome your evil, and rid yourself of it in the end. 
So I learned of the Prestons." 

" But don't you know the Scripture says *no drunk 
ard shall enter the kingdom of Heaven ?' — ^how, then, 
am I a Christian ?" 

"What does that mean? — ^is it an unpardonable 
sin to get drunk ?" 

" It is unpardonable so long as the man drinks. 
When he ceases to drink, and is a sober man, he is 
pardoned — he pardons himself. That is the way all 
pardons are granted. The truth about it is, that text 
applies not to alcohol drinkers — ^for, bad as {hey be, 
they may reform — ^in other words, be pardoned, for 
reformation is pardon. But the Scriptures lcII us 
there are those who * are drunken, but not with wine/ 
— ^who * stagger, but not with strong drink.' They 
are those who are wiser than the word — ^who are 
drunk with self-intelligence — who are not sick, and 
therefore need no physician — who are righteous, and 
need no Saviour. The sin is in the spirit, the life, 
the affections. They are spfritual drunkards, drug- 
ged with self:intelligence, righteousness and wisdom 
^They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken 
man — ^their sin is unpardonable. There, can't I 
preach ?" 

"I wish all preachers would preach and practice as 
you do," said John. "But we must talk about 
earthly things. What is to be done with this poor 

A COa^FOBTEE. 249 

Gentile ? (pointing to Jann) — ^and how are he and I 
and Jerry to get out of the hands of these chiistiaDSy 
and find freeaom ? — that is the point" 

" The best thing Jann ever did in his life was to 
pitch his pious old drunken master heels over head." 
Turning to Jann, he said, " I have been on the look- 
out to-day, and find the old hypocrite begins, to think 
you are a boy of sense and spirit, and fit to have the 
charge of his business. He values you higher than 
ever, and will set no dogs on your track to chase you 
out of the country, mind that — at least so I think. 
But I will examine the case further, and in the mean- 
time, prick up — don't be cast down. In three days I 
will guarantee you will be on better terms with him 
than you ever was before." 

" For the sake of getting ready to run away, I 
want to get back to him. My means are in his 
hands, and they were hard earned. All I live for 
now, is to get freedom, and if I can't get that, I don't 
care to live at all." 

" That is just my case," said John. 

"Well, well, boys, keep quiet — it will come 
round. In a short time, you, Jarm, will stand better 
with the old man, gnd have a better chance to get the 
means you speak of, than ever before." 

" About those passes ?" 

" O, I'll write each of you a pass when you are 
ready to start. John and I have talked that matter 

" Well, I must make some money. I can make 

250 J. W. LOGUEN. 

$50 by my patch this year — ^but not if I am shut up 

" How large is your patch ?" 

"About an acre." 

"How do you find time to work it ?" 

"O, I work nights only, of course — ^but the patch 
has the credit of raising a great deal of cotton, which 
I get by my wits. My master's son, John, is friendly 
to me, and I do things for him, and he steals his^ fath- 
er's cotton and pays me liberally. I dicker with the 
slaves and they steal their master's cotton, and I put 
it all on my pile. So my crops depend quite as much 
on my skill at trade as upon my labor. By the way 
— ^have you given Mr. Eoss any bacon yet ?" 

"O, yes — ^I handed him a ham yesterday." 

"Give him another, on my account." 

"That I'll do." 

"We shall need to use you a great deal, Mr. Eoss, 
and will pay as well as we can. We.have no scru- 
ples to take property which our masters call theirs, 
because it ain't theirs — ^it has been earned by us and 
our kindred, and not by him or his. We wQuld do 
no injustice to them, and so far as we can we are de- 
termined they shall do no injustice Jo us. The reason 
we escape from them, is, because they rob and wrong 
us all the while. We have well considered these 
matters, and are satisfied we are right." 

"Of course you are right. No man ever lived that 
did not reason as you do — ^men are men because they 
so reason. And they are the more men as they get 
out of slavery. To take your own is just, as everyone 


knows by interior perception. Such perception is 
(Jod, in every man, whispering — *get your rights and 
keep them.' By such interior perception Qod spoko 
to Adam, Noah, Moses, &c. — and this is what the an- 
cients meant when they said, *God spoke unto Ad- 
am' — "The Lord spoke unto Moses,' &c., &c. Ho 
nerer spoke to any man but by an internal perception, 
and his words are heard in the soul, not in the ears. 
A man's spirit never mistakes God's voice, saying, 
Hjtet free — get your own.' And this voice every slave 
as distinctly hears, by his spiritual organs, as he hears 
the thunder by his natural ones. Go on, then, and be 
free. Take with you your earnings — ^horse, clothing, 
money — everything you need. You have a *Thus 
saith the Lord' for it ; — ^it is the command of God." 

"That is the stuff— that is religion. It is fiill of char- 
ity and blessedness, ff your preachers and class- 
leaders preached in that way, their awakenings would 
be of a differgnt sort — ^they would howl to a different 

"Yes, indeed. If Christ should come in a New Je- 
rusalem and preach that way, your master would kill 
him. Men no more know him when he comes in the 
spirit at his second advent, than they did when he 
came in the body the first time. They then thought 
he wouli come as a king — now they think he will 
come riding on a cloud or a white horse. The truth 
is, they don't understand the Bible. If they did, they 
would see him here now, separating the sheep from 
the goats, and setting the world in order." 

"When shall I see you again ?" 

262 J. W. LOGUEK. 

"In a day or so," said Boss. 

"I hope you. are right in regard to my master. I 
will submit to my fate a little longer for the sake of 
freedom — ^but I will not submit to be tied and flogged, 
nor will I go to him like a tamed and sneaking slave 
— ^I will be killed -rather. I will go to him like a 
man, and he shall know he has gained nothing by at- 
tempting to tie and flog me." 

"Eight as a book 1 — ^you are an exception in slave- 
ry. Your master feels his dependence on you too 
much not to respect your manliness. He can't get 
along without you, and he knows you know it. From 
prudence and interest, he will not, as some masters 
would, drive you to despair. If I don't err, experi- 
ence has taught him what you will and what you will 
not bear. Your manhood will raise you in his esteem 
and confidence. He values you at this moment high- 
er than he did three days ago — at least that is my 
opinion — ^but m understand the case better in a day 
QT two. Of course, you will be discreet, and approach 
him respectftdly and frankly, as if you confided in 
his generosifr;^ and good sense — ^but I'll see." 

"So I made up my mind to do — ^but I have no res- 
pect for his generosity or good sense." 

"Neither have I," said Boss. "I rely upon neither 
the one or the other. I calculate on his discrimina- 
tion in respect to his interest, only. I think he has 
eense enotigh to see that a quarrel with you won't pay. 
Manasseth Logue was never dull to scent a shilling, 
drunk oi* sober." 

"You are right there." 

ADYios. 253 

'1 hayp been tetling jou how to play the game with 
your master — ^for it is iJl trickeiy between master and 
slave. He that cheats most is the best fellow — ^i^ be- 
ing a slave, he is not found out in his cheating. So 
when you come to escape, if yotl do escape, and I 
have no doubt you will, you must be bold, and not 
fear to stop at the best house while in the slave states — 
you must act as freemen act. It is not enough to say 
you are free — ^you must act free. You are to get out 
of the country, of course, with all reasonable expedi- 
tion — ^but, mark me ; you are to go with heads up, and 
in Ihe most pubhc roads. If you go dodging and 
shying through the country, you will be suspected, 
seized, imprisoned and advertised — but if you ride 
boldly through, like freemen, you will get through 

'*Do you say we must stop at the big houses ?" 



'^Because it is the last thing a slave would do — ^and 
because again large houses are the most willing and 
able to entertain jou." 

In this way the parties talked until the evening was 
consumed, and then parted, mutually pleased— Eoss, 
because he thought he had done something for the 
good of the poor fellows, — and Jarm and John, be- 
cause they were encouraged and instructed by him. 
Jarm immediately rolled into his bed of leaves, and in 
the act of revising the conversation just passed, fell 
asleep, and woke not until the birds peeped on the 
boughs, and the gray light on the water, and the 

254 J. W. LOGUEN. 

shade in the mouth of his dungeon disappeared. Then 
he awoke to repeat the ceremonies of the previous 

When evening *came again, pursuant to arrange- 
ment with John, hq. started for the Famey plantation, 
and arrived there about nine o'clock. Perceiving 
there was yet a light in the great house as it is called, ' 
though it was about the'Size of an ordinary log house, 
he waited in the skirt of the forest for it to disappear. 
He had not to wait long before the house was all 
dark, and no sound of human life was heard but one 
soft, female voice, carroling a slave's song at the door 
of her cabin. 

Jarm stepped lightly from his covert, and ap- 
proached warily the spot where she sat, and by a 
token not new between them, made himself known. 
The voice of the girl sunk lower and lower, as she 
neared him, until the sound ceased to be heard, and 
she was in the arms of her friend. Quickly she flew 
back to the shanty and picked up a bundle of cloth- 
ing, and hastened to the side of Jarm and delivered 
it to him, and then leaned on his strong arm and 
strayed into the forest. She was a beautiful slave, 
and Jarm .was her favorite — ^but his heart was spoUed 
at the Prestons for love affairs. He was pleased with 
her company, person and character, but his intent 
went no farther. He had long resolved never to be 
a husband or father, until he and his children could 
be free. He therefore discharged his obligations to 
the girl, by acknowledgements and caresses which 


were common to kind, yoimg hearts of their class, and 
a disregard of which would seem cold and ungratefuL 

"You have been over to our people ?" said Jarm. 

"Yes — ^I went this evening." 

"Did you see mother and the rest ?" 

. "Are they weU?" 

• "Yes. Mr. Preston was there yesterday to buy 
you. He pressed Manasseth very hard, but the old 
wretch was unwilling to part with you at any price, 
and refiised to name any sum that he would take for 

**How did you find that out ?" ^ . 

"Maria and your mother both told me." 

*Did Mr. Preston enquire for me ?" 

"Yes — ^he was very anxious to see you." 

"How glad I should be to see him [ He is a glori- 
ous,- good man. Slavery would be nothing if masters 
and mistresses were like him and his wife and daugh- 
ters. I never expect to enjoy myself as I did with 
those good people. that I could go and see them !" 

SuppHed with clothing, Jarm ^ shut himself in the 
cave and woods during the day, again, and visited his 
colored friends on the neighboring plantations, or en- 
tertained them in his rocky home, during the nights. 
His life was easy and social, but unnatural, constrain- 
ed, and fruitless of preparation for a better country. 
His spirit tired of it, and he determined to put on a 
bold face and go to his master. 

We pass over several interviews with Eoss, John, 
and Jerry, in which their joint concerns, and his indi- 

256 J. W. LOGUEN. 

vidual case, were talked o^ ai\d come to the interview 
between Jarm and his master. He had spent the pre- 
vious evening with his friends at the cave, and was 
emboldened to take the step which would test the 
question of reconciliation. Early in the morning he 
fitted his dress for work, afid took a circuitous roiite 
for home. He took a circuitous route, that his ap- 
proach should not hint the direction of his conceal- 
ment. He arrived just as the hands left/or the fields, 
and found his master in the yard. For the first timje 
in his life he approached him with his hat on his head. 
He touched it with his thumb and finger, bowed, and 
said, respectflilly, as one equal does when he meets 

"Q-ood morning, sir." 

"What do you want?" 

"Kyou harve anything for me to do, I will go to 

"Have you been to bre!lkfast?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Go into the lot to making fence." 

This brief colloquy was all that passed. But the 
tone and manner of it, signified to Jarm's mind, that 
the reconciliation was complete — ^Manasseth, who 
knew so little, how to conceal passion, had not the 
least show of it. Jarm was satisfied his master was 
glad to see him, and that he entertained no intent to 
flog or injure him. H Jarm was tired of wild life, 
Manasseth was tired of filling his place on the farm. 

From that day forward there was peace between 
Jarm and his master — not because they were really 


reconciled, but because it was tlie only means to sc 
cret ends. Jarm was peaceable as a war measure, and 
his master was peaceable as a measure of economy 
and policy. Like all slaves and slaveholders, (as u 
general truth,) they fell into a forced, hypocritical 
and false position, in which Jarm had the advantage, 
for he read his master's mind and motives like a book, 
while he was to his master a s^led book. 

Jarm was v6ry attentive to the interest of the plan- 
tation, and his master's eyes were effiectually blinded 
thereby. The latter trusted the 'management of hia 
farm to him, and allowed him many privileges. What 
remained of his whiskey, Jarm sold, which, with his 
little patch plantation, made sufficient 'capital to pay 
his way to the free north. 

But notwithstanding Jarm's importance to his mas- 
ter, and the fidelity and industry of his mother and 
sisters, he was destined to experience another of those 
terrible blows upon his heart, which are ten thousand 
times more painful than death. His sister Maria 
was a young and beautiful slave mother, who lived in 
the smiles and caresses of ier husband and three love 
ly children, one of whom was a babe at her breast 
Her loving heart was bound to the hearts of her moth 
er, brothers and sisters, by cords woven of heaven, 
and which could not be broken without impaling the 
very life of the whole family circle. 

In the latter part of the summer, Jarm found him- 
self in the midst of the following circle: a bluff and 
strong built man, having the dress, manners, voice 
and expression of a ruffian, with a pistol in his bosom 

258 J. W. LOGUEN. 

and a whip in his right hand, attended by two oi 
three like rufSans, with Manasseth .standing by, and 
two of them attempting to tie the hands of the beau- 
tiful Maria with a rope, — she resisting, screaming and 

" Let me have my children — do let me have my 
children I" 

"What you make such a d — d fiiss &r ? Shut up, 
or I'll make you bellow for something — ^you have got 
to go — ^what is the use ?" 

"Give me my children and I will go anywhere — 
only let me have my children — ^I can't, go without my 
children I 

The coarse aiid hard labors of Mafia had given her 
great strength of muscle, and in the desperation of her 
affections it- was no easy thing to secure her hands* 
The hard man who was attempting it, irritated by her 
screams and struggles,^ struck her on the mouth with ' 
the back of his hand. 

"Shut your mouth, yc^ dr— d ." 

The blood flowed freely from the mouth of the girl, 
and ran down her chin and neck, and she cried the 
louder — 

"Give me. my little children 1 — ^I can't leave my 
children I" 

Internal agony gave desperate strength to her 
natural energies, and she resisted the united strength 
of all the men — screaming aU the while, "Give me my 
little children I — 0, take my little children with me 
and I will go — ^I can't go and leave my children I" 

But the strength of the cruel men finally overcome 


the wretched slave mother, and she was forced into a 
wagon with them — ^her hands were tied, and she was 
held to her place, and driven screaming away. So 
soon as she found she must go, and there was no re- 
lenting, she prayed only for her babe. 

"0, do give me my babe I — ^my Httle babe — ^I can't 
live without my babe. What will the poor little ba- 
by do ? — do give me mj- babe and I will go with you 
— do let me have one child — ^I can't go without my 

Crack went the whip, and just as expressive of sym- 
pathy was it as the curses and oaths of the wretches 
who made it crack — and the clattering of horses' feet, 
and roUing of the wagon, and oaths of the drivers, 
and moans and screams of the misierable Maria, min- 
gled together, until they died on the ears of Manasseth 
and his wicked household. It was the last time poor 
Maria ever saw her children, mother, brothers or sis- 
ters, or any one of them. She was driven off alone, 
and left them to a like fate. 

The lion-hearted Jarm was obliged to look on, riv- 
eted in his tracks by a sense of impotence and desire 
of vengeance. Nothing but a conviction that he would 
soon escape from the power that was v^renching his 
heart in pieces, held him from dashing his blood 
against the blood of the incarnate devils who were 
eyeing their gains amid the imutterable agonies of all 
his kindred. 

260 J. W. LOGUEN. 


The terrible experieii<?e of the last chapter increased 
the impatience of Jarm. It was a stirring admonition, 
"that thou doest, do quickly." He hastened a meet- 
ing of his friends, to make final arrangements, and 
they determined to be ready with horses, clothing, 
provisions, money, arms, and passes, to start imder 
cover of the first night of the holidays. The thought 
of remaining where he could ba tortured by such un- 
utterable outrage, was intolerable. 

Manasseth Logue had four or five good horses. 
The one which Jarm appropriated was a young, high 
spirited, well-broke, beautiful animal. For fleetness, 
endurance, strength and beauty, it may be doubted 
whether there was a superior in the State. Having 
full charge of the horses and their feed, he petted and 
fitted this one for his purpose. Though perfectly or- 
derly, he was often in the best meadows, oat and corn- 
fields. Manasseth grieved that this good horse was 
being thus disorderly, little dreaming that his trusty 
Jarm pulled down the fences with his own hands, that 
he might have ingress to the best feed, and be fitted, 
at his master's expense, to carry his best slave out of 
the country. 

The fall work was finally completed, and the reli- 
gious season came round again, when it was conven- 


ient for these Christian slaveholders to have a time of 
taking care of their souls at the anniversary camp- 
meeting. There the three friends met again, for the 
last time, and their friend Eoss met with them, — 
while their pious masters were mouthing their prayers 
and shouting their "Amens," they retired to hold a 
slaves' caucus in the mountain cave, and plot their es- . 

"We must be ready to start the first holiday night,** 
said Jarm. 

"Agreed," said John ; "I shall be ready." • 

*T11 try to be," said Jerry. 

"It won't do to pass the holidays — ^we must get to 
Illinois before winter— =-and now about those passes ?" 

"There'is one for each of you. I have dated them 
on the first of the holidays," said Eoss, 

Each of the parties then paid into his hand $10, in 
cash, and promised, before their departure, to deliver 
him flour, bacon, and other necessaries for his family, 
— a promise whidh they faithfiiUy fulfilled. Of course, 
these articles were all secretly taken from their mas- 
ters. Theft is the basis principle of slavery, and the 
littie world in wjiich the slave's mind and body moves, 
compels the conclusion that it is right to take fix)m his 
robber every thing he can safely lay hands on. Ka> 
ture and heaven know no law for the slaveholder. 
He is as much an outlaw in the slave's eye, as the 
slave is in his eye, and, therefore, justly exposed to 
every act of secret or open war, that the slave fancies 
may aid his freedom or convenience. 

"Now, boys, remember what I tell you — ^nobody 

262 J. W. LOGUEK. 

has a nght to see your passes but a magistrate, arid 
you are to deliver them to nobody but a magistrate, ' 
said Ross* 

"But what if they stop us, in case we refuse to de- 
liver them ?" 

"Knock them down*— fight Hke lions. But you are 
not to seek a fight. You are to enquire if they are 
magistrates, and if they say "nay," tell them you arc 
ready to show your passes to a magistrate,— but are 
not willing to deliver them to anybody you may 
chancerio meet. Tell them you will go with them to 
a magistrate, and deliver your passes. Be civil— state 
your rights, kindly and calmly, but maintain them 
boldly and to the last extremity.'* 

"We'U blow their brains out." 

"Not until the last moment must your enemy know 
you have pistols. Your pistols must be your fiiends 
only in extreme cases. When you are driven to the 
point where you are to be seized or your adversary 
be shot, shoot him without compunction. Until you 
arrive at that point, keep your pistols covered up. K 
he won't give you food, rob him: if he won't give 
you freedom, shoot him." 

"Lord speed the day!— freedom begins with the 
holidays I" 

"Amen I" 

"And now let us go and see what that bawling in 
the camp means." 

Evening had already set in, the meeting was com* 
nienced, and the voices of the preachers and the shouta 
of the hearers echoed through the woods. 


**1 wonder if there ia any religion in that noise ?" 

"Pshaw, no," said Eoss. "Eeligion is willing and 
doing good to others — ^this is only bawling. The de- 
lights, of religion result from doing good— the delights 
of this affair is in the excitement of self. Eeligion is 
merciful and rational — ^but this excitement is produt* . 
ed by the Evil One, to shut the eyes of their under* 
Btandings to the unreasonable and merciless charaetel* 
of their own hearts. Look yonder — there is old Man* 
asseth on his knees, now. Hear him cry aloud. Loud* 
er than that, old man 1- — Baars deaf. That's it— beat 
the ground with your lists— take out your knife and 
cut yout flesh and make the blood run, as your prede- 
cessor did at Carmel. What an old wretch he is I" 

"What makes you say he. is crying to Baal ? — ^he ia 
crying to God. What is Baal ?" 

"He is praying to god, to be sure — ^but it is a little, 
fihriveled'souled god, of just his own soul's size and 
quality. The ancients called that god, Baal — ^its true 
tiame is— self* All persons who worship from self-love 
are worshipers of Baal. He thinks, or pretends to 
think, he is praying to Jehovah— but in fact he i« 
belching out the desires of his selfish heart-^he is 
pleading to Baal for the benefit of his own infernal 
lusts, ni bet you,a guinea he has got a pistol in his 
bosom-=-and there it is— I see it sticking out, now — * 
and if he saw you getting your freedomj he would 
jump up and shoot you." 

"Of course he would shoot us, or otherwise murder 
us, if we attempted to get our freedom. Were it not 
feo, they would not hold us long*— you may bet your 

2lM: J. W. LOGUEN. 

life of that. Pretty religion, that I I don't like Btuil, 
if that is their god — ^hc may do for slaveholders — ^I am 
determined to flee from their god and his worship- 

"You will have to get out of the slave states, then. 
To use Bible language — ^those states "are the high pla- 
ces of Baal." Your master, Jarm, is well named, for 
his namsake of old built up the high places of Baal, and 
your master does the same. Like Manasseth of old, 
he has shed innocent blood. Hear him — ^what a reck- 
oning he will have with his crimes some day. 

"I wish I understood the Bible as well as you do," 
said John. 

"So do I,---and I mean to imderstand it, when I get 
my freedom," said Jarm. 

"You imderstand it now better than your masters,*' 
said Boss. 

"How is that? — ^I can neither readier write." 

"You can't read or write the external letter of the 
word, — ^but you do read and speak the internal letter 
and intent of the Bible — and your master knows no 
more of the latter than his horse, if we are to judge 
from his life. You understand this, don't you — *all 
things whatsoever you would that men do to you, do 
ye even so to them— for this is the law and the 

"Why, I understand that I am to do to others as I 
would have them do to me — ^but that other thing, 'this 
is the law and the prophets,' I don't understand." 

"It means that that rule of action is the sum of all 
the teachings of all the Bible — *the law and the proph- 


etfi' are the total of the Old Testament, whidi teaches 
only that sentiment — ^it is the' pith and substance of 
the Bible, of all true religion — ^it is Grod's rule of life 
for himself and all his angels — ^in holding men to the 
same law, he does as he would be done by — for it is 
the rule of goodness and truth."* 

"O, that everybody would teach and live such reli- 
gion as that — we need not be here plotting to get 
away from these devil-deacons into Illinois, if they 
did. If I ever get to a tVee country, I mean to get 
learning and preach that religion, as the means.of put- 
ting down the religion of the slaveholders. What a 
wicked thing it is, that our mothers, brothers, and sis- 
ters cannot be delivered until this religion is put 

*'They make a great fuss about religion, as if it re- 
quired much learning and study to get at it. The 
' truth about it is, it requires skill and study to give it- 
a false face and cover it up. The children understand 
it better than the minister — it is to live right — ^it is to 
do justly — to do good to others, from a love of doing 
good, not because you are afraid of God or afraid of 
hell, but because it is your delight and life to do it. 
Afraid of God ! Afraid of hell you may be, because 
hell is a perverted affection — ^it is self. K you suffer, 
your suffering is self-inflicted. Men never feared God 
until they feU — ^then Adam said, *I was afraid.' Fear 
thyself, but don't fear God — ^rush into his blessed bo- 

*If we are to regard the letter of the Old Testament, and some of the New, much 
of it is unintelligible, false and cruel. Bat if we seek its meaning from the seience 
of aaalojjy,— the science of the acients,— we mn orerwhehned with its di»initf apd 


266 if. w. LOGtfij:* 

flom rather^ that is ever opeii to receive you. Now, 
boys, don't forget this* injunction. I trust it is one of 
the last I shall gire you— this may be the last time 1 
shall see you-^— I would impress it upon your memo* 
ries, have no fear of God-— feat only yourselves and 
the devils, in the shape of men, who would enslave or 
corrupt yoUj and make you your own enemieSi Your- 
selves and brother men are to be feared — God, never. 
He will be your friend whether you will or not— he 
never can be anything else-^he loves his enemies-** 
he loves even those cruel men that are praying there 
for mercy for themselves when they have none for 

"God* loYe his enemies I God not to be feared 1 
Ain't that a strange thing to say ?" 

"It ain't common talk, I'll admit,^-but It is true, 
liotwithstanding,— and it is the true intent of the Bible, 
too. The Bible says, ^The fear of the Lord is the be*\ 
ginning of wisdom,' and that he is *angry with the 
wicked every day'-— 'but it must be remembered that 
the Jews, for whom it was written, had lost all spirit- 
uality—they were the swine of the Scriptures— they 
were inverted men, and saw things in a false and in* 
Verted order. To them, therefore, the Lord, instead 
of being loving and forgiving, was angry and impla» 
cable. They could only be influenced by fear, — ^and 
God, in mercy, ruled them through their fears and 
delusions. To them, truth was inverted and false— 
to them God was, of course, love inverted, and there« 
fore angry, jealous and -revengeftil. The Book wa« 
written according to such false appearance, or it had 


been- useless to the Jews. The fear that taught les- 
sons of duty and wisdom, and the anger which appear- 
^ in the &yce of God, were seen through the inverted 
and perverse loves of their own souls. They had 
changed. God was the same never-changmg, ever- 
loving being." 

"Well^ I love to hear you talk," said Jann ; 'Tbut 
those bawling hypocrites disgust me. I can't hear 
them any longer. By the way, I think I shall learn 
very little divinity until I get where I can think and 
act freely. As to Manasseth Logue, and all yonder 
crew, may God deliver me from them and their reli- 
gion I Good bye." 

" That's it, my lad I The angel of the Apocolypse 
is now saying to every slave, * Whosoever vnU, let 
him come and take of the water of life freely f and 
• let him that heareth say, come ;' and * let him that 
^ is athirst come.' Flee, then, and slake your thirst 
freely 1-— the angel declares and God commands it; 
and no man may forbid it with impunity." 

Jarm strayed into the woods, and came across his 
pet horse. He raised and curved his beautiful neck, 
^and saluted Jarm with his usual whinner, and Jarm 
answered him by patting him and talking nonsense. 
He soon turned and examined a strange horse near 
by, whose points were not so good as his own. But 
the stray horse had a new, rich and beautiful saddle 
on his back — ^whereas, the saddle on his favorite was 
inferior and worn. It was not only new, but it was 
beautifully quilted, and its-guilded stirrups reflected 
light like polished gold. Not doubting that the sad- 

?68 J. w. Lpwiac. 

die was the property of some of the christion slave- 
holders who were carrying on in the camp, or carous* 
ing in the groggeries, he raised the^ question whether 
he had best appropriate it for freedom ; and finally 
decided to take it by way of reprisal for slave pira* 
oy, and part satisfaction for its wrongs. As before 
said, in the eye of the slaveholder, the slave forfeits 
everything to his master; — so in the eye of the slave, 
the slaveholder forfeits everything to his slave. 

He immediately took off the saddles and put his 
master's saddle on the stranger's horse, and then 
stripped the bridles off the horses' heads — Cleaving 
the throat latclics buckled — ^and turned them loose — 
having previously fractured the girth of his master's 
saddle, so that he was sure it would be brushed from 
the back of the horse, and seem to be done by the 
horse himself. 

Jarm left the bridles as he found them, fastened to 
small trees, and tossing the new saddle upon his back, 
he took a circuitous tramp to the old meeting house^ 
and deposited it for his use. 

The horses returned naked to their homes; and 
their owners, finding the bridles as aforesaid, inferred 
that they had stripped the bridles off their heads, and 
lost their saddles in the woods. Search was made 
for them the next day, but Manasseth's was the only 
one that ever came to light. 

After Jarm deposited the saddle, he returned to 
the camp and met his friends again. 

" Not gone yet?" said .Boss. 

" Not yet." 


Jarm now explained to them what he had been 
doing. ' 

" Let us go one side," said Ross. " These noisy 
Jews may overhear ns, and it would be as bad for 
me as you, should they do so." 

" What do you think of my saddle affair, Mr. 
EosB ?" said Jarm. " You see, of course, what I 
think of it, by the act ; and now I want to know 
whether you approve it as a just and right transac- 

"Exactly — exactly. *An eye for an eye, and a 
tooth for a tooth.' " 

" What do you mean by that ?" 

** Why, that is the law of retaliation — the law of 
mercy and Heaven. *He that taketh the sword, 
(against the right, of course) shall perish by the 
sword.' If a jnan does good to his neighbor, he does 
good to himself — ^if he does evil to' him, he does evil 
to himself When Christ told his desciples not to 
jndge men, he added, * for with what judgment ye 
judge, ye shall be judged' — *tit for tat.' In com- 
mon language, that is the law of Heaven and Hell. 
If these christian rascals steal your freedom and 
bread, they forfeit to you their own freedom and 
bread. When God was about to rescue the Israel- 
ites from their masters, he told them to borrow their 
gold and silver and jewels, and take them along. 
Heaven knows no other law but this * tit for tat ' 

" But we are told not to retaliate upon our ene- 

270 J. W. LOGUEN. 

" Neither do we retaliate by this rule. The ei.einy 
does the mischief to himself. God's government is 
so that the wicked punish themselves. By shedding 
man's blood, which is divine truth, the bad man 
sheds his own blood — ^that is, he extinguishes truth 
in his own soul — and truth is spiritual blood or life. 
He kills himself— God don't do it. We are making 
our spirits all the while, and consigning them to 
Heaven or Hell — ^that is, we are constructing our 
eternal homes to suit ourselves." 

" Old Manasseth would never allow such a thing 
as that." 

" Not he. If a preacher should get on the stump 
there and declare this doctrine, the whole brood 
would draw their dirks on him. They could not bear 
it, because it is God's truth against slavery ; it smites 
them where they live. It will be long before they 
approve the heavenly axiom, * An eye for an eye 
and a tooth for a tooth,'— or in other words, * as a 
man judgeth so shall he be judged,' ot * as he for- 
gives trespasses so shall his trespasses be forgiven,' 
&c., tScc. • I tell you, as true as you live, every man, 
under God, is his own final judge, and sentences his 
own soul to Heaven or Hell. God, whose seat is in 
all our faculties, but endorses the decree. Those fel- 
lows are fixing their souls in Hell now. There are a 
plenty such meetings as that in Pandemonium." 

"Well, well — my saddle has effected an important 
use already. It has been a capital text for a capital 
sermon. I beliete in that preachingp In taking the 


saddle, I have been just to myself not only, but to 
the robber who claims it." 

" We are agreed in that." 

" There is one item of prep3Tation that puzzles me 
to make. John' Famey, have you got your pistols 
and ammunition yet ?" 


" Neither have L We must have them immedi- 
ately — Christmas is at hand. I see how it. is — ^we 
shall have to employ you, Mr. Boss, to get thosa ar- 
ticles. It won't do for us to be looking round for 
pistols — ^you know it would make an earthquake in 
the country." 

" Well, I can do it I am going to Nashville next 
week, and if you give me the needful, I will pur- 
chase the lads for you." 

" It is a bargain." 

" Now, boys, I want to give you a special charge. 
You must be careful — ^I am involved in this aflEsdr as 
deep as you. You will put me in a fine fix if you 
let it be known I am helping runaway slaves to fire 
arms. I know you both, and can trust your honour. 
Still, I chargid you to the utmost secrecy and care. 
A discovery in this matter would send you to Geor- 
gia, and me to the hmb of a tree. Does your moth- 
er, brother, sister or sweetheart know anything about 

" No. It is one of the evils of slavery that a fu* 
gitive may not trust mother or sister or lover — ^nor 
may he confide in a brother, until he knows the 
strength of his love, and feels it as his own. No 

272 J. W. LOGUBN. 

mortal among my i:elatives dreamy of my intents, 
and as for a sweetheart, I have none. I did love a 
girl once, but her place and station are beyond my 
reach ; and that is- one reason that determines me to 
turn my back on slavery, imtil I can &ce it and figlxt 
to the death." 

" You forget our Eachel," said John Famey. " If 
she is not yours, you are hers — and I am thinking 
she would make a pretty muss if she knew we were 
goi^g to run away." 

" Poor, innocent, good girl ! It is not my fault she 
is partial to me. When we are gone, she will mourn 
sadly, and may take it in her head to be pff too. Be 
assured, my dear friend, (addressing Eoss) your name 
will never be mentioned in this affair. K my broth* 
er knows it, he never will know you had a hand in 
it, in any form whatever. This case is all our own." 

** I did not suppose you would intentionally betray 
me, any more than you would yourselves. If this 
thing is to fail, it will be by carelessness, not treachery. 
Therefore I urge the utmost possible secrecy and 
care, every moment, and in every place. Life and 
death, liberty and slavery, the good to be done and 
enjoyed if you succeed, and to be lost if you don't 
succeed, depend on your cunning and courage and 
prudence. Shut up in this prison, you can't conceive 
the possible importance of this enterprize. You see 
it only so far as you are concerned, and only intend 
to be free as other folks. The importance of your 
freedom to others is not thought of or imagined. To 
rid yourself of slavery is an animal instinct, and a 


religious duty. That instmct repodes among the com- 
bustible faculties of the soul before duty is. thought 
o£ It is an electric rod, which points to Heaven, and 
attracts the divine spark which sets your souls on 
fire. You imagine you are self-prompted. It is 
a mistake. Divine love kindles the fire in your 
bones, which you cannot resist Now, then, I am no 
prophet or son of a prophet, but I will predict that 
before you become of my age — ^before you are thirty 
years older — ^the whole land will cry out against sla- 
very, and not only cry, but rise and expel it from the 
coxmtry. The Star in the East lights the horizon 
now, and ere your sun goes down — when it is in its 
meridian, if you live as long as I have — ^that Star will 
be in sight, rising and shining * from the East even to 
the West,' — chasing the dreadful darkness away, and 
turning the clouds that make it into glorious Hght. 
Your corporeal and intellectual abilities, irrepressible 
impulses, and past experience, will make you an im- 
portant element in the cold North ; and thousands of 
others, who, like you, will escape from this slave- 
cursed coimtry, will carry in their bosoms, as you do, 
unquenchable fires ; and the frosty North will melt 
apon their bosoms, whether they intend it or not 
O, yes — would that I could live to see it! More 
progress is to be made in liberty, in religion, in poli- 
tics, in science, in industry, in humanity, the coming 
thirty, than in the last himdred years. Slaves will 
be important agents of that progress. I scarce dare 
speak it. Such wUl be the intensity of intellectual 
light, that it will break through the crust of nature 

274 J. W. LOGUEN. 

to the spiritual su^i-— the source of all light and all 
heat; for the light and heat of this world are only 
the natural and material coverings of the truth and 
goodness of the great God, which are constantly flow- 
ing from him through our sun into nature, to keep 

" My dear friend, our freedom is a world of im- 
portance to us, and it is all we think of just now. It 
shall have aU our industry and ability to attain it, for 
its own sake — ^beyond that we know nothing. K we 
can do anything to bring about the good things you 
speak of — ^though we hardly imderstand what you 
mean by them — ^we will do it for the sake of others. 
One thing we can do, if it comes to that, we can 
fight — ^yes,. and we will fight, you may bet your life 
of that, when there is half a chance to break the 
yoke off the necks of our countrymen by breaking 
the necks of these impious men." * 


The evening before Christmas, though cold, was as 
clear and beautiful as Tennessee sky could make it 
Jarm and John had their holiday passes, and no ar- 
ticle was wanting to complete their equipment 
They had stabled and fed their horses in the best 


jnaniier, filled their saddle bags with clothing on one 
side, and bacon and chickens and bread on the other, 
and were ready for flight So soon as the sun went 
down, Jann went over to Famey's, and found him in 
the road, a little distance fiom his master's house. 

**I have been waiting for you," said John. 

" All ready ?" said Jarm. 

" Eeady to a dot" 

"We shall start at two o'clock, and take Jerry in 
our course — ^he will be waiting." 

" Then good bye to old Tennessee ? Won't we 
fire a salute when we get on free ^ound?" 

" Three days will take us out of Tennessee — ^but 
how long we shall be getting into Illinois, I can't 

This conversation, and more like it, occurred as 
they proceeded slowly towards the negro house. At 
this point of the conversation, a voice, half scream 
and half groan, and loud enough to be heard at a 
distance, came out from the fence, very near them, 
and struck .them with 'terror. Turning to the sound, 
they saw Eachel in a delirium of excitement, pro- 
duced by overhearing their conversation. 

" Ohl dear ! — ^you are going to run away 1'* cried 
the girl, whose aflfectionate sympathies were painfully 
excited by the possibility of a separation from one 
she loved. 

" Hold your tongue ! — ^hush ! What do you make 
that noise for ?" said John, in an undertone. " You 
are crazy !" 

" 0, 1 heard you talk — I know what you are at — 

276 J. W. LOGUEN 

you can't cheat me ! What shall I do ?" said the 
frantic girl 

" Shut up I — do you mean to cut us off from the 
holidays, and get us into the calaboose ? Do you 
think we would go away and leave you ?" said Jarm. 

Jarm now took the girl by the arm, and led her to 
the kitchen, and soothed and quieted her, and drew 
her away from any suspicion of his escape ; and, 
finally, wearied with her day's labor and the excite- 
ment of the evening, she fell asleep on his shoulder. 
The poor girl was tired, and slept soundly. Most 
anxious to be relieved of his charge, he quietly laid 
her on a bed near by, as he would a sleeping infant^ 
and softly left the house. John, who was ready 
without, immediately put him on a nice horse, and 
he returned home, soon as possible, and let the horse 
loose in the streets ; and he remained there, cropping 
the grass and bushes. 

Without delay, Jarm saddled and bridled his own 
horse, and prepared for flight 

Now come a painful trial. To fece hardship, and 
plimge, without experience, into an enterprize ftiU of 
peril, did but stir the energy of his soul ; but to take 
a last look at his mother, sisters and brothers was too 
much for him — ^but he could not leave without it. 
He had a lion's heart when looking at the perils and 
terrors around him, but he melted down loolang at 
those dear ones. The tear trembled upon his eye- 
lids in spite of him, as he shook hislmlf-brother Hen- 
ry out of his sleep and called him aside. 

" What do you want?" said Heniy. . 


" Henry," said Jann, " I know I can trust you. 
I am going to run away. This is the last time I 
shall see you, for I shall start in a few minutes — I 
could not go without telling you, that after I am 
gone you might tell mother, about it Were I to tell 
her directly, so much does she love me, I fear she 
would expose me. You must take kind care of her, 
I cannot be a slave any longer." 

We will not detail the particulars of the conversa- 
tion between these brothers. It was carried on with 
moist eyes and trembling breath. Jarm explained to 
Henry his preparation, and hoped on a future day to 
provide for them all. He knew he need not pledge 
his brother to secrecy, for he was the counterpart of 
his own soul. Nevertheless, they talked of the ne- 
cessity of secrecy. Henry approved the enterprize, 
and only regretted he was not a party to it. But a 
regard to their mother, required that one stay behind 
to sootjie her in the dark days that would come to 

The brothers entered the negro-honse together. 
The silence was broken only by the loud respirations 
of the weary . sleepers. Henry stood by the door, 
while Jarm approached his mother's bed-side, to make 
a last offering of love — and 1 how deep and sacred 
was it ! As he took a last look, his inmost soul said 
in a -voice silent to sense, but audible to spirit and to 
God, "G, my mother! our bodies must part — our 
spirits, never. Where I go you will go with me. I 
can never be separated from my mother — ^never, 
nn-(M*! Your master (he is longer) may 

278 ** ' J. W. LOGUEK. 

keep our bodies apart, but our souls he cannot part. 

that you could go with me ! I mean to embrace 
you again, mother. Forgive me, mother — ^I can't 
Btaylonger 1" He wiped his eyes, and imprinted a 
last kiss upon her forehead. She stirred, and Jarm 
hid his light and retired. 

Some conception may be formed of the sacred and 
touching sensations of the heart, but who will at- 
tempt to describe them? In the coming world, 
where spirit commimicates with spirit, emotions are 
seen as in Eden, by the understanding, which is the 
mind's eye. Not so in this outer world into which 
we have sunk by the fall. The good angels see them 
and turn them to use, but we are spiritually blind 
and helpless. 

The brothers now embraced and bid each other a 
long farewell. Their affectionate communings were 
soon broken by the sound of horses' feet, and John 
Famey, with overcoat close buttoned* to the chin, 
rode up. 

" My horse is lame — ^very lame, Jarm." 

" That is bad — ^very bad." 

" I'll let him loose and take that one," pointing to 
the horse Jarm rode over, which was stUl feeding by 
the road-side. 
• " That is a capital horse," said Jarnu 

" I know it I chose between the two, and rfegret 

1 had not taken and fitted that one instead of this — 
but he is in fine order." 

To set the lame horse loose, and put saddle, bridle 
and bags upon the other, was but the work of a mo- 


mbnt ; and he returned to Jarm and Henry about as 
soon as Jarm had his horse out and his load upon 
his back. 

" Good bye, brother. Eemember, mother must be 
ignorant of this at least one wepk, and longer, if she 
shows no imeasiness. Good bye." 

"Good bye." 

The last words of the two brothers were spoken 
fiedntly ; and with a warm pressure of hands, they 

The cord was now severed which connected him 
to the home of his kindred, and it was some moments 
ere his experience of the keen night air restored him 
to a social state. 

The travellers took the turf by the side of the 
path, and rode a while in silence, each occupied by 
thoughts peculiar, to himself It was, as we have 
said, a cold, gorgeous night The moon and stars 
shone like burnished gold in an ocean of silver. The 
young men were alike dressed in a close buttoned 
overcoat, and their heads and hands were capped and 
gloved, so that they defied the frost in any shape, and 
at any point the winds might drive upon them. Its 
sharp edge stimulated their well fed and spirited an- 
imals, whose antics soon claimed their attention. 
Not was the air less bracing and exciting to them- 
selves. In spite of the scenes they were leaving, and 
the danger before and around them, they, too, began 
to inhale intoxication from the atmosphere, and feel 
it in the influx of freedom which the first step of 
their flight let in upon their senses, ^ew life swelled 

280 J. TV. LOGUEN. 

their muscles ; and ere they had gone two miles, they 
were/Side by side, curbing the impetuosity of their 
beasts, and presenting as gleefal, social, and formida- 
ble a platoon of might and courage as the star of Chi- 
valry ever shone on. They called to mind that they, 
had passes, for the holidays, and if * worst come to 
worst,' they felt they had strength and means to rout 
or ruin any three or four men the country could pro- 
duce within their knowledge. 

They were now nearing'the estate of Col. Wilks, 
and hoped to meet Jerry provided like themselves, 
when they thought it would go hard with twice or 
thrice their number of ordinary men who might at- 
tempt to cross their track to freedom. How sad, 
then, to find him at the appointed place, unprepared 
for the enterprize. Situated as he was, he could not 
as readily as they possess the means of escape. They 
had but to lay theil* hands on anything of their mas- 
ter's which they needed ; not so with Jerry. Though 
Col. Wilks had excellent horses, and provisions in 
abundance, the fact that he rescued him from his 
murderers forbade his taking them. 

We will not stop to detail the particulars of this 
interview. It is sufficient to say that Jerry could 
not be ready. They all felt this as a misfortune, but 
agreed that John and Jarm had best go on; and 
they pressed the hand of their unfortunate friend, 
and bade him a long farewell. 

Though at least one third of their intended force 
was lost by this misfortune, their hopes and courage 
were not diminished. Jerry was a brave^ and strong 


maSi, a shrewd counsellor and terrible fighter, a close 
friend and boon companion, and therefore a serious 
loss. Yet they felt they were cunning and strong 
enough to go through without him. It is said disease 
preys on the senses, and that the patient therefore 
meets his &te with little pain or reluctance. So the 
slave, whose manhood is not crashed, looses attach- 
ment to life, and meets without reluctance the prisis 
that gives him liberty or death. 

The interview with their friend was short, and the 
fugitives moimted their horses, now growing mettle- 
some with oats and oxygen, and turned to the North 
Star, which sparkled like a diamond on their path. 

About six o'clock the same morning a stout colored 
woman, wearing a colored handkerchief in the shape 
of a loose turban on her head, was attracted by the 
appearance of two gigantic colored men on horse- 
back, in the principal street of Nashville — their 
horses and themselves much freckled by the frost. 
Though she never turned her head or changed her 
step, which convinced the strangers that she suppos- 
ed her interest as well as theirs required that she be 
neither seen nor Jieard but by themselves. 

" There is a row up in the city," said she, " which, 
. if you are strangers, you had best be mindful o£" 

Full well they understood (the travellers were no 
other than the young fugitives,) that the trouble re- 
lated to their unhappy countrymen, and that they 
must be careful. It was arranged on the start, that 
if rivers were to be forded, John, should take the 
lead ; but if fighting was in prospect, Jarm should 

282 J. W. LOGUEN. 

take the lead. Jarm therefore moved along, on a trav- 
eller's trot, up Main street, in the face of the people, 
and John followed the length of his horse behind 
him. The whole metropolis was in motion, but the 
travellers moved, directly on about their business, 
like wise freemen, turning neither to the right or left, 
— carefully avoiding any matters not their own. 

They soon found themselves moving through 
masses of citizens in a high state of excitement ; but 
their appearance testified that they were strangers 
and early travellers, and their boldness saved them 
from any suspicion that they were fugitives. They 
were unnoticed but by the passing glance of an occa- 
sional horse amateur, who stopped to eye the beauty 
and motions of their noble animals. 

They passed through the masculine population of 
the city, which had mainly rushed to the scene of 
action. Glad indeed were they when their horses' 
feet struck the bridge over the Cumberland Eiver on 
the border of the city. But they were greatly alarm- 
ed to see there a toll-gate shut across their path, K 
they might avoid notice elsewhere, they knew they 
must attract direct attention at this important pass. 
As they advanced upon the bridge, a little boy pre- 
sentecl himself at the gate to wait upon them. This 
new and imexpected peril, though it quickened their 
wits, did not embarrass their equanimity. It needed 
but a motion, which Jarm knew well how to make, 
to set his high spirited horse boimding as in a fright, 

" Open the gate — quick !" said he, tossing a shil- 


ling to the obedient boy, as he rushed through, and 
told John to do the same. 

They afterwards learned that they were in great 
da,nger at this point. • The keeper of this gate being 
a lame man, he was employed by its stockholders for 
the double purpose of employing a moneyless cripple, 
and to detect fugitive slaves. It was a part of his bar- 
gain: with his employers that he should criticise every 
colored person who came there, and be careful not to 
pass a runaway. It so happened, this morning, that 
his curiosity was attracted by the tumult, and he 
hobbled after the multitude to arrest or murder a 
handftil of abused black men. Had he been at home, 
it is not probable the travellers could have passed 
without a severe cross examination — ^may be not 
without violence ; for, under the circumstances, they 
would have forced a passage if necessary, and trusted 
to the strength of their horses and their own genius 
to avoid consequences. Happily the point was pass- 
ed without trouble, and their minds relieved of great 
anxiety as they entered the open country beyond. 
They congratidated themselves on their good luck, 
and began to think of breakfast for themselves and 
horses, and would have stopped at a ferm house to 
eat, but for the following occurrence. 

Between them and tiie house above mentioned, 
they met a little colored boy, who, from his size, they 
judged to be between four^and six years old. The 
little lad was shivering, mourning, and crying pite- 

" What is the matter, boy ?" 

284 J. W. LOGUBN. 

" They have been selling mother." 

" When did they sell her ?" 

" This morning." 

" Did the man who lives in that house sell her?" 


" O, well — don't cry," and so saying, Jarm threw 
him a piecepf a chicken's wing, and John gave him a 
piece of bread, which the poor fellow commenced 
eating with the ntmost greed, apparently forgetting 
his wrongs and sorrows in his temporary good for- 

" Who that ever had a mother could break and 
mangle a mother's and child's heart like that ?" 

" Gurse the wretches ! Don't let us stop at that 
house to feed — I should be tempted to shoot them I" 

** No, no — ^I fear we would both fail to bear our- 
selves as our case demands with such people. We 
will go on." 

They passed by, and now and at noon, fed their 
horses at the corn stacks which they found in seelu- 
ded places by the road, and refreshed themselves 
from their own provisions. 

As yet they had little experience of freedom ; they 
had never spoken with a white man in their new ca- 
pacity, and feared a lack of assurance to save them 
from fatal embarrassment when put to the test. 

When the evening began to drop its shadows 
around them, and their features were indistinguisha- 
ble, they foimd themselves in front of a Baronial 
mansion, which stood in a large court-yard abundant- 
ly and tastefully • ornamented with trees and shrub- 

Fiiiffr jsfiQwr OUT. 286 

beiy, and surroxinded hj a stone wall and iron gates. 
The scene, in its twilight drapeij, to their nnprac- 
ticed eyes, was full of inconceiyable attraction and 
imposing grandeur. 

" Dare we stop here ?" 

"We have got to stop somewhere, or feel and act 
like slaves — ^lay out, and be taken up for runaways, 
if we are stumbled on by white' men." 

" "Will they keep us, think you ?" 

" To be sure they wilL" 

" Courage, then !— here goes !" said Jarm. " Hur- 
rah, there 1" 

The voice of a colored boy responded at the bam — 
to which was a gravel walk in a direct line fix>m the 
large gate at the road. The boy came at once to the 
gate, and his master, who heard the call firom the 
house, also came. 

" What is wanting ?" said the landlord. 

" We want keeping for ourselves and horses to- . 
night, sir. We are travellers." 

" Open the gate, William." 

The gate being opened, the travellers rode their 
horses into the yard, and it was immediately closed 
and barred behind them. . 

" Lead the horses to the bam, and take good care 
of them," said the host ; and turning to the travel- 
lers, he said, politely, " Follow me, gentlemen." 

To use an expression quite common now, the trav- 
ellers were " taken down " by the politeness of th^ir 
host ; and when he took them by a circular path up 
a high flight of stone steps which led to the front 

286 . :r. W. LOGtfEK'. 

door, and was about to usher tliem into a parlor bla» 
zing with light and fashion, they shrank instinctively 
back and exclauned internally, " Conscience, we can't 
go thatl" and instantly Jarm said to Ihe man, -^^ We 
are free colored men, and only want keeping for otu> 
selves and horses over night" 

"Very well," said the man — and turning to the 
door on the opposite side of the hall, he said, kindly, 
" Walk in here." 

The room was dark when they entered, but the 
landlord ordered a light, and wood and coals o( fire 
were brought, and the host himself set to kindling 
them into a flame. Jarm was greatly embarrassed by 
the condescensionof his landlord, and John retreated 
to the outer door to hide his confusion. Perplexed 
as Jarm was, he did not believe it was proper to be 
passive, and see a white gentleman like his landlord 
build him a fire— he insisted, therefore, with all hu- 
mility and civility, to do it himself. He was glad to 
hide the confusion his color did not conceal, by bend* 
ing low and blowing the coals and kindlers into a 

So soon as the fire blazed up, Jarm told his host 
they would be glad to retire early — ^if he had a " pal* 
let " for each — ^which, in Tennessee, means a blanket, 
—they would be^provided for the night. 

The landlord gave the requisite orders, and left 
them to themselves. John, of course, returned from 
tis temporary retreat. The room was soon warmed 
up, the pallets brought in, a hasty supper of bread 
and bacon consumed, the lights put out to signify 

GOOI) LtTCK. 287 

tliey had retired, and themselves rolled up in their 
blsmkets on the carpet soon as possible— to watch, 
but not to sleep. 

At this stage of their affairs, tiiey were glad to 
avoid all intercourse with white men which they 
could avoid. . The possibility that their landlord 
tnight return, kind and gentle as jie seemed to be, and 
catechize, them about Iheir affairs, frightened them, 
—therefore they lay down at once and watched till 

When the clock struck fbur they were up, and 
called up William, saw to feeding their horses, sad* 
died and bridled them when they ate their oats, and 
told William to find the amount of their bills, that 
they might pay and be on their journey. 

They soon heard William in conversation with his 
toaster, asking him for the amount of charges? 
"What I are they going so soon?** 
"Yes, master— their horses are already prepared, 
and they wait only to pay their bills." 

" Why, I did not think they were going so soon. 
I intended to have a talk with Ihem in the morning.'* 
" They say they are very anxious to be off, because 
they have many miles to ride to-day, to be at a cer- 
tain place in time." 

"Well, tell them to give you a shilling a-piece, 
and let them go." 

"Bless God I" inwardly said the runaways. The 
shillings were paid, and they were let through the 
gate into the highway without delay 

aiQS J. w. liOaujeN. 



As may be supposed, the young men were delight- 
ed to be alone again on the public highway. To them, 
their over-night experience was something like an es- 
cape from a den of lions. The weather continued 
freezing cold, but they minded it not, so intensely in- 
terested were they in their success. Their horses 
were well fed and cared for, and scarcely less lively 
than when they started. 

Their own provisions furnished them again, and 
their horses were supplied as on the preceding day. 
When evening came, they found themselves in the 
presence of one of the most popular taverns on the 
road. It was quite dark, and they delivered their 
horses to tHe stable boy, like other travellers, and di- 
rected their steps to the house, which was glowing 
with light, and alive with the sound of many voices. 

As they entered the hall, they met the landlord, 
and enquired if they could be entertained. He said 
*'yes," and opened the door into the bar-room. They 
saw the room literally filled with white men, in all 
stages of intoxication. The fumes of tobacco and 
brandy, with the loud oaths of demented men, flowed 
in an overpowering torrent upon their senses. 

"Don't take us in there !" said Jarai. "We are free 
colored men, and want to be by ourselves, and- have 
supper, and go to bed, and be on our journey in the 
morning, early," 


The landlord then led them to a-private parlor, and 
left them. In a short time a servant came and said 
their suppers were ready. 

Neither Jarm or John were ignorant of well provid- 
ed tables; but to see one set for themselves, alone, waa 
a new thing. Their table was ftimished with broiled 
chicken, ham and eggs, coffee, sweet-meats, and etcet- 
eras. When they took their seats, servants stood be- 
hind them to obey their commands. They felt awk- 
wardly but pleasantly, and exchanging signiJSicant 
glances, hastily sated their keen appetites with the 
best supper they ever enjoyed. After the cold food 
and cold ride of the last forty-eight hours, a warm feast 
like that waa a great luxury. 

They fell asleep soon after they felt their beds, and 
notwithstanding the bellowing of the crazy and drunk- 
en men, who, until after midnight, and even to ap- 
proaching morning, made the house tremble with their 
demonstrationsj they slept soundly, only, and occasion- 
ally, and partially, waking, to testify to the tempestur 
ous excesses of the debauch. 

At an early hour they awoke the hostler, fed thein 
horses, paid their bills, and prepared to journey again. 
We give the following incident, illustrative of Jarm's 
luck and southern ways. 

Jarm brought to the tavern a new cotton umbrella, 
and left it with the landlord. This umbrella some 
of the frolikers had taken, and left a new and beau- 
tiful silk one in its place. When the servant brought 
Jarm's things, in the morning, he brought along this 
umbrella. "That is not my umbrella ; mine is a new 

1 o 

290 i. w. u>axjmt. 

cotton one," daid Jarm. The boy tetumed to his mad- 
ter and stated the case to him. 

"Tell the d — d fool to take the nmbrella and be oflf 
—who the d— 1 cafes ? — the silk mnbrella belongs to 
the nigger"-*^growled the landloid from his bed, wherd 
it is not probable he had lain long. Of couise Jarm 
made no more words, accepted thepfofitable^xchange, 
imceremoniously thrust upon him, thinking it an ill 
wind that blows nobody any good. 

The third day did not materially vary the experi- 
ence of the fugitives4 But when night overtook themi 
they stopped at a private mansion, which, they were 
told, belonged to a bachelor gentleman* They deliv- 
ered their horses to the servants, to be cared for, ad 
tisual, and were led to the front door, and entered the 
room, where the proprietor sat reading. 

"We are free colored men," said Jarm, "and want — ^ 

"m. colored men ye— you black rascals I" said the 
bachelor^ as he reached for his cane, **if you don't get 
out of this room I" 

. The young men fled, of course, and avoided the 
blows the idiocracy or drunkenness of their host seem- 
ed willing to inflict. He did not follow them, but 
seemed satisfied that he was clear of their presence. 
The servants understood his peculiarities, and Ijsd 
them to the kitchen, and showed all the kindness they 
dare. But they were allowed neither supper or bed. 
Here again they had a night of fasting, added to anx* 
ious watching for morning, to be released from pain* 
M embarrassment. Two things only were they in- 
debted to their crusty landlord for. Their horses wera 


housed and fed,— thanks to the slaves for that, — and 
they, also, were covered from the cold winter. 

•Notwithstanding they were so shabbily used, the 
overseer showed them his sotir and ngly face in the 
morning, and demanded a dollar for the use of beds 
which they never had. In the lion's month, as they 
were, they knew it was wise to be submissive. Jarm, 
therefore, handed the overseer a dollar bill, which had 
been condemned as counterfeit, and which he could 
no where else pass. This piece of counterfeit paper, 
which had been imposed on Jarm, appeased the ex- 
tortion of the crusty scoundrel, and they took their 
horses and departed. 

They now entered the fourth day of their journey, 
without awaking the enemy, or eliciting attention to 
their real character. They were in excellent spirits, 
and congratulated each other upon their good fortune. 
From past experience, they believed to-daywould be 
as yesterday and the day before, arid that they should 
pass through without molestation. Their road lay- 
through a thinly setded and uncultivated country, and 
it was rare they met a traveller. Under the circum- 
stances, they dismissed fear, and amused themselves 
by recurring to the escapes, perils, and incidents of the 
journey. Those perils and incidents made them the 
more sportive, as they were exciting. Over their ex- 
perience with the old bachelor, whose vengeance and 
hospitality were so spontaneous and peculiar, they 
made themselves merry and laughed heartily. 

Full of health and glee, they progressed some four 
or five miles from their morning's starting point, when 

292 J. vr.. eosuen: 

thoir attention wna airestjed by the appearanoe of Are© 
men on foot, who entered tiiqir path by a road in the 
wood oif right angles with their own, about fifty rods 
from them. Instead ot' crossing and continuing along 
in the same road, the footmen turned and came tow- 
ards them. Their merrimenl was abruptly hushed, 
and Jarm started ahead, while John fell behind, ac- 
cording to their arrangement. With their eyes stead- 
ily measuring, the men as they advanced, they silently 
moved along on a moderate travelling gait. 

So soon as the fugitives got sight of these men, they 
knew they were not gentlemen. On foot, and in a 
half shabby dr^ss, they resembled a set of men known 
only in the south, who are most dreaded by black 
men, and despised by white men, to wit — ^negro-catch- 
ers. As they came nearer, it was evident they were 
able-bodied, and if their spunk was equal to their 
strength,'it was certain, as opposed to Jarm and John, 
only, they were n6 despiseable force. Whether they 
had pistols or knives, the travellers knew not. Theix 
only weapon in sight, was a heavy walking club, which 
one of them used, and which probably had been pick- 
ed up in the path. They knew their own pistols were 
in order, for they fired and reloaded them but a short 
time before. They made sure that they could be seiz- 
ed any nioment, but determined to use them only in 
the last extremity, bravely trusting their personal 
strength to overcome the three, and relying on 
their weapons "to settle the hash," if necessary to 
When the parties came together, the footmen seized 

A BATTLE. 293 

the horses by the bridles, and the following dialogue 
ensued : 

"What is your name ?" said one of them, address- 
ing Jarm. 

"Henry Eobinson." 

"What is your name?" addressing John. 

"John Robinson." 

"None of your d — d lies — whose niggers are you?^' 

"We are freemen." 

"Where are you going?" 

"We are brothers, going to see our mother in Ken- 

^'Have you got travelling passes ?" 


"Show them — ^let us see them." 

"They are in our. saddle-bags — we'll get off and 
show them." 

When they had dismounted and tied their horses, 
they asked the ruffians if they, or either of tbem, were 

*fNone of your business — what do you want to know 
that for?" 

"Because, if you are magistrates, or if any one of 
you is a magistrate, we are bound to show you our 
passes ; — ^but if not, then you have no right to demand 
them. We are willing to go with you to a magistrate 
and deliver him our passes, if you doubt us — ^but we 
are not willing to deliver them to any one who is not 
a magistrate." 

"Don't blarney with us, you black rascals — ^get out 
your passes, if you have got any, or come along to 

294 J. W. LOGUEX. 


jail. Well learn you manners — we don't believe you 
have any passes." 

Conversation like the above was carried on with 
Jarm by one of the three, and a like conversation with. 
John by another one — ^the ruffians demanding the 
passes, and the fugitives refiising to deliver them to 
any one but a magistrate. 

Finding the young men obstinate, one of the ruf- 
fians took Jarm by the collar, while the other was 
busy with John. 

"Com6 along with me, you dog 1" pulling him with 
. his might. 

"You have no right to take me, when I have a 
pass," said Jarm, hanging back, and nulifying the 
force of the draft on him. 

"Come along, you d — d rascal, or 111 take your 
life," Jarm still hanging back, and remonstrating as 
before — waiting for the fight to begin in earnest by 
the assailants. 

While thus engaged, the third man, covered by 
Jarm's assailant, struck him on the head with his club, 
•which, for the moment, Jarm thought had ended the 
fight on his part, before it begun. His head flashed 
fire, like an exploding magazine, which was followed 
by darkness and faintness, that made him mindless 
and helpless. He reeled and was near falUng, and 
the blood flowed freely firom the severe wound made 
by the club. Jarm thought it was all over with him, 
as did the man who had him by the collar. He there- 
fore let go of Jarm, to help the man against Jolm 
Farncy. John had already passed the bounds "of self- 


defence, and was dealing his enemy blows that made 
hm reel and cry for help. 

Jarm's brain now began to light up, and passion 
and vengeance came with its light. His strength came 
forth speedily, and he sprang like an angry tiger at 
the throat of the villain who struck him. The whole 
weight of his body was projected against the wretch, 
and he tumbled backwards over a log — ^and Jarm's 
knees, propelled by the weight of his body, plimged 
into his bowels and breast 

"You will lay still awhile, I guess," said Jarm, as 
be sprang from the lifeless man to rescue Famey from 
tlje assassins, who were pressing him hard. 

When Farney's combatents saw Jarm- coming, and" 
that their companion was noiseless and motionless, 
tliey turned and fled, leaving that companion to the 
mercy of the conquerors. The victors pursued them 
a few rods, in separate directions, into the woods ; but 
having no motive but vengeance in the pursuit, they 
returned, and foimd the prostrated man motionless, 
with the club by his side. They felt that charity did 
not require them to see whether he was dead or alive, 
and without delay took their horses and fled with 
all reasonable speed, believing that the wounded and 
discomfited men would rouse the whole country in 
their pursuit. 

A few moments wrought a great change in the con- 
dition, plans and feelings of the fugitives. As they 
rode, they made up their minds that coolness and im- 
pudence would no longer serve them — ^that they must 
abandon their original policy, and be fiigitives in ear- 

296 J. W. LOGUEK.. 

nest. Leaving the main road, therefore, they took 
collateral and obscure ones, and travelled with great 
speed. As yet, their beasts made no complaint, and 
seemed able as at the beginning. Now, they put them 
to what, in their judgment, was the limit of their abil- 
ity. At noon, and night, they fed them and them- 
selves, in the fields, at the hay and com stacks, and 
lodged there at night. They no more ventured on 
the general thoroughfeie, or at private or public hou- 
ses. Their policy now was, to be private and expedi- 
tious as possible to get out of the slave states. 

The day after the above rencounter, they enquired 
of two slaves they met, the direct route to the Ohio 
Eiver. After informing them of such route, the slaves 
said, two colored men on horseback, had given three 
notorious negro-catchers a dreadful fight, the day be- . 
fore, and that one of the latter had been killed, or 
nearly killed — ^that couriers had been sent along the 
road by the negro-catchers — ^that the slaves were 
greatly rejoiced at this, because these slave-catchers 
annoyed them, and were intensely hated by thenu 
They said farther, that though the slave-catchers were 
greatly excited, the people at large cared little about 
it ; for they believed the brave travellers were fi^ee 
negroes — ^that none but free negroes would do as they 
did — ^that the white men were bad men, and deserved 
a flogging— *«uid yet it was by no means safe for the 
fugitives to be caught, for the slave oatcheiS would 
persecute them to death. 

The slaves were satisfied from the appearance of 
Jarm and John, that they were the heroes who did 


iJie deed tfaey were talking about, and said this to put 
them oa guard. 

On the morning of the second day after the ren- 
counter, they found themselves in Kentucky, and for- 
ty^eight hour's ride, only, from the Ohio River, oppo- 
site Indiana, which, they learned, was a free State. 
Their anxiety was greatly stimulated to reach that 
point. They had ^ent the night ui^der a hay-stack, 
which, with corn taken from a, crib near by, served 
for feed for the horses and shelter for themselves. And 
now they started on a gait which they calcula:ted 
would bring them to the river within time. It was a 
cold and dreary morning, but they were warmly clad, 
and TigOToufl as well by nature and habit, as by the 
interest at staka 

But their way was by no means a smooth one 
It lay through a country of man-thieves, and wretches 
formed into banditti, to obtain a livelihood by way- 
laying, capturing, imprisoning, and depriving of their 
protection, such as they, and often selling them into 
slavery. Their danger increased from people of this 
soTt^ as they approached the free States. 

About nine o'clock in the morning of this day, they 
discovered in the road before them, five naen on foot. 
There was no way of avoiding them, but turning and 
fleeing, which would not only put them off their 
course and delay them in their journey, but would 
admit their guilt, and stir the country in their pursuit. 

"Let us meet them," said John. 

"Certainly — ^to turn and run would make us fair 

298 J. W. LOGUEN. 

"They are of the bad class, I know by their dress 
and walk. K they were gentlemen, we might hope 
to pass them without trouble." 

"Just so — ^but we must make short work. If they 
stop us, let us not dally — ^if we must fight, let us not 
hesitate to give the first blow, after sufficient cause — 
and let it be a blow that will show them not only that 
we are in earnest, but which will leave their number 
of able bodies, less, by one." 

"That's it — ^if it comes to my lot to strike, he that 
takes the blow will feel it ; — ^but mind, if they have 
pistols I In that case they will have the hands of us, 
and there will be bloody work. The first motion of a 
pistol must be a death signal. Until we see such mo- 
tion, however, we will be content to settle the fight 
with fists and clubs." 

"They are on us — ^let us look right ahead and say 
not a word." 

The parties soon came together, and the footmen 
came around the travelers, and began to catechise 
them, and demand their passes. As in the other case, 
they got off the horses under pretence to show their 
passes, but really to prepare for a fight The colloquy 
differed little from the one they had witii the combat- 
ants two days before. 

The original arrangement in regard to fighting waa 
now dispensed with. It so happened that one of the 
white men, who was more rude tiian the rest, put his 
band on John Famey. Without waiting for farther 
provocation, John gave him a blow in the eye, and 
sent him backwards almost to the ground. As if he 


had been kicked by a horse, the flesh above the eye 
was cut and fell over it, and presented a bloody and 
shocking appearance. No sooner did this most unex- 
pected thing occur, than awakened by surprise, the 
assailants made a feint as if they would attack the 
young men, but their brawny arms and terrible deter- 
mination, and astonishment at their courage, overpow- 
ered their pluck, and they fled with their might, John 
yelling behind them — 

" Rim, you white-livered cowards !" 

There was no time to be wasted now. The inter- 
view and the combat were brie^ but they served, so 
long as tiiey lasted, to rest their horses. They mount- 
ed at once, and leaving the hat of the unlucky scamp 
whose eye was bruised on the field of battle, they 
fled the country. 

They had not progressed far, ere they met an in^ 
telligent colored man. He was well acquainted with 
the roads to the Eiver, and told them of an obscure 
one which was equally distant with the main road, 
and would be likely to deceive their pursuers ; and 
should they be overtaken on this obscure route, they 
could easily cover themselves by the immense wood 
it traversed. 

They had no time to consider chances, and there- 
fore plunged into this blind road with great speed — 
and had occasion to thank their stars that they did 
so. They learned, afterwards that the same slave 
who put them on this course, also put their pursu- 
ers on a feJse sceiit in the direction of the river at 
a point lower down. 

800 J. W. LOGIJEN. 

Though their way lay through oocasional com- 
fields, where they found abuadant provision for their 
horaes, they saw scarce a house or man the whole day. 
One more night they spent in tiie open fields among 
the stacks of com and oats ; and without meeting 
anything worthy of record, they amved on the banks 
of the Ohio, late in the afternoon— a thing they had 
looked forward to with such concern as ftigitive slaves 
only know anything about. 

They went directly to the Eiver, and there found a 
boat bound to the shore by the ice. Behind them 
lay the wilderness of stunted oaks and brush through 
which they found their path to the Eiver. On tiiie 
outer edge <>£ the wood, and on Ihe margin of the 
bank, stood a contemptible log ^anty, which, in size 
and aspect, resembled a cross between a hog-house 
and an inferior human dwelling, with nothing about 
it to induce the suspicion that it had an inhabitant 

The first question, df course, was, how they should 
get to the oj^>osite bank. The river was quiet in 
tiie embrace of Winter, and no sound was heard but 
the hoofs of the horses on the ioe-bound pebbles, 
and the voices of the travellers talking of the safely 
of passing on the ice. 

While they were discussing that subject, a door 
opened on the side of this miserable cabin, fix)m 
which a man emerged and moved towards thenL Of 
course their attention was eamestfy fixed upon this 
new and xmexpected object Their first purpose was 
to assure thei);^lves that the man was alone; that 
done, they were at ease. Thougkapparently a strong 


tnan, who did not se^n to lack courage, liiey bdieved 
that either of tiiem could manage him alone, and of 
flooise he would be a trifle opposed to them both. 

"What you about there!" he exclaimed, in a 
coarse, rough voice, as he approached them. 

" We want to get over the river." 

"You can't do it." 

" We must go over to-day." 

" Well, you won't get over to-day. It is my ferry, 
and the boat is frozen in — and the ice is not strong 
enough to bear up a man, without the horses." 

" What shall we give you to, get us over with our 
horses?" said Jarm. 

** Didn't I tell you it couldn't be done? Be off, 
you black d — ^Is 1 I know you — ^you are running 
away from your masters — and I would not help you 
over any how. But the thing is impossible — ^you 
can neither use boat or ice. It is uncertain whether 
you can in a week — so be off I" 

" We will give you tvfe dollars to get us over^" 

" Didn't I tell you it could'nt be done ?" 

" "^eli, name the sum we shall give you to take us 

" It ain't my business to run niggers." 
" But we are free niggers — ^name the sum We shall 

"Free niggers, eh? — ^that lAaybe. Well, if you 
are free niggers, then I will land you safe on the 
other side, if you will give into my hands five dol- 
lars a-piece before I start." 

"We won't trust you so long as you can say 

302 J. W. LOGUSN. 

*scat' If you will take us over, you will have your 
pay when your work is done, and not before." 

" Well, since I have made the offer, if you will 
agree, upon honor, to pay me ten dollars when I get 
you over, then I will take you safe across." 

"You old scoundrel! If you can take us over, 
then we can take ourselves over. We won't give 
you a single cent," said Jarm, leaping into the boat, 
and leading his horse along on the side to the end of 

His eye now caught horses' tracks leading off on 
the ice. 

"Come along, Jo£n," said he, "Here are tracks 
of horses' feet — ^we will follow them. We don't want 
any help from that lying old scoundreL" 

" Get out of that boat, you black d — ^1, or I'll 
break your head I" 

" Your head ain't worth breaking," said John Far- 
ney. " But if you don't shut your lying mouth, I'll 
smash it," at. the same time shoving his heavy fist 
neai^the cheek of the ferry-man. 

"Come along," said Jarm. "Let the lying brute 
alone — ^he ain't worth quarreling with.. If he don't 
leave peaceably, just put a bullet through his head — 
that will quiet him !" 

The travellers now went along on the ice, leading 
iheir horses in Indian £le, Jarm a little ahead. They 
left the Kentuckian foaming and swearing like a 
bedlamite, and kept their eyes intently upon the ice 
to see if it bent beneath them. Passing the center 
of the River, they felt safe, and for the first time 


raised ilieir eyes to the opposite shore. When they 
started, that shore was scarcely. perceptible through 
the milky atmosphere, but now a small 'village was 
visible a little distance fiom it, and three or four men 
were standing there, looking at them. The number 
of men soon increased to five or six. The fact was, 
that a light horse or two only had been led over, and 
it was still considered perilous for a heavy man and 
horse to venture. 
• As the travellers approached the shore, their color 
began to be seen. 

" They are niggers," said one of the villagers. 

" They are brave fellows, any how." 

"ril bet they are slaves running away. Let us 
take them up and get a pile." 

"Agreed! D- n the the niggers! We don't 

want them on this side !" 

When they arrived at the bank, they were six or 
seven rods from these men. Now they had their feet 
upon free soil, it become a question what to do. A 
word or two only was said about it, when Jarm drew 
out his well loaded double barrelled pistol, and said, 
* Let us fire !' John also took out his pistol, and they 
both pointed in the air, and each discharged both 
barrels. The report awoke an echo on both shores, 
and was heard at a great distance. 

** Pshaw !" said one of the citizens, " they can't 
be slaves." 

" They are free niggers," said another, " who have 
been to Kentucky to spend the Holidays with their 
friends, and have returned in a frolic." 

d04 1^. W. LOOtTfiK. 

" Slaves never acted in that way," said anoiihcr. 

"They are drunk," said anotiier, "or they had 
not dared oome over on the ice." 

A brief colloquy of that sort dispersed these wise- 
acres into the village, with the exception of a color- 
ed man — who was shocked by the proposal to arrest 
and return them to slavery. He remahied when the rest 
were gone, and went immediately to the young men. 

"What are you firing your pistols for?" said he. 

" We have been travelling many days to get to a 
free State, and we are free now. We fired our pis- 
tols to express our joy that we were safe firom our 
pursuers, who we think we left not fer behind." 

My dear fellows, yon are little safer here than in 
Kentucky, if it is known yon are slaves. Your pur- 
suers will follow and take yon here, and there are 
bad men enough to help them do it. Did you see 
those men standing with me out there ?" 


" They thought you were slaves, and agreed to take 
you back to your masters. But when you fired, 
they concluded you were free colored men, coming 
home in a frolic, after the holidays in Kentucky. 
Travelling on horse back, and shooting pistols in that 
way, made them so confident you were freemen, that 
they did not think it worth while to ask you any 

" I thought this was a free state ?" 

" It is called a free State — ^but the laws allow slave- 
holders to hunt their slaves here, and hold them, to 
take them back." 


"Where, then, can we be safe? We cannot go 
back to slavery — ^we had rather die." 

" Yes, and somebody will die before we go back," 
said John Famey, driving a ball into his pistol. 

" There is no place in the States where you can be 
safe. To be safe, you must get into Canada. I am 
soriy to say that the only power that gives freedom 
in North America, is in England." 

" How can we get to Canada ?" 

" Follow the North Star — do you know the North 

" Yes." 

" Have you any money ?" 


" There are those in the free States who will do 
what they can for you. Your danger is in falling 
upon enemies. It will not be safe to stop here a mo- 
ment. Take that road, and go to Corridon, a small 
village about twenty miles from here, and enquire for 
a man by the name of . He is an abolition- 
ist, and will keep you and tell you what next to do." 

The stranger said many other advisory things to 
the fugitives, in a brief discourse, which it is not ne- 
cessary to relate. , 

The reader need not be informed that they receiv- 
ed this information with great sadness and disappoint- 
ment. Their joy was suddenly chilled, and their 
happy sky all black again. They were now more 
puzzled than ever to know how to act. The State 
where they were, forbid its citizens to hold slaves for 
themselves, but allowed and required them to hold 

806 J. W. LOGUEN. 

slaves for others. Pecuniary speculations in slaves 
were limited to hunting, siezing, .and replnnging them 
into slavery. In this miserable way, there were too 
many ready to live on the miseries of colored men. 
They saw that ere they could attain freedom, they 
must track their way from point to point, and from 
abolitionist to abolitionist, by aid of the Star, through 
the dreary wilderness to Canada. 

The joy, which a few moments before swelled like 
the sea, now ebbed like its tide — ^yet they were 
not discouraged. New dangers started up — ^but they 
had been educated to look danger in the fiice. Their 
lives hadi)een a concatenation of disappointments and 
perils — ^therefore their spirits were hardy and brave. 
It is a blunder to suppose that American slaves are 
cowardly and spiritless. Ignorant and degraded they 
may be ; and in some, the spirit of manhood is en- 
tirely crushed out — ^but the same causes strengthen 
and perfect the manly qualities of others — ^and it may 
be doubted whether, as a body, a braver people live. 
They lack wisdom and knowledge through no fault 
of theirs — ^but they are decidedly, if not pre-eminent- 
ly brave. 


Instead of being in the promised land, the young 
men found they were further from it than they ever 
thought of, and an immense wilderness between, 


whose anti-slavery thoroughfares Tiad never been open - 
ed — ^that wilderness, todf instead of an uninhabited 
waste, was ftdl of enemies, dangers, and trials, such 
as at that day. had rarely been encountered, and nev- 
er recorded. And now, after having slept, for suc- 
cessive nights, like the beasts of the fields, in a dark, 
cold night, on the borders of a village in a so-called 
free State, they were met with the kind advice to 
walk softly away, so as not to awake the people, who 
would delight to seize and enslave them. 

Nevertheless, they now felt they had been again 
saved by an unseen hand, and that their conflitions, 
though harsh and severe, were a protection and a 
blessing. Had they arrived at the village a little 
earlier, they had inevitably fallen into the hands of 
slave catchers. Had they not fired their pistols as 
they did, they had not deceived and dispersed the bad 
men who stood ready to seize them. The blessed 
night now interposed like the pillar of clpud between 
them and their pursuers — and the counsel of their 
friend was as the voice of God speaking out of it, 
pomting their way, and directing them onward. 
Their acquaintance with the lives of Christians (so 
called) had led them to form a low estimate of pop- 
ular Christianity — but they were not so obtuse as to 
infer that these deliverances were accidents. They 
served to revive in Jarm's memory the theology of 
the Prestons, and he was strongly impressed that 
God's angels were with him and would take him 
through. But had Mr. Preston been there, he would 
have told him that these experiences, and others like 

808 J. W* LOGtXTSS. 

them, the land and world over, were the chanticleriah 
signals of liie extinction oT faith, and consequent 
tribulations which attend the birth of a new Jeru- 

" What do you think of the case now ?" said John, 
after they mounted and rode out of the hearing of 
their white friend. 

"Bad — ^bad enough. But we are in great luck, af- 
ter all." 

"How is that? — ^twenty miles to a firiend, hungry 
and sleepy, the horses tired — ^and in good luck ?" 

" It is evening — ^we had been off our guard entire- 
ly, and lost, had we been earlier ; we were exactly in 
time to find the friend who just left us ; our shooting 
saved us again and dispersed our enemies ; the iright 
covers our pursuers with darkness or sleep, to give 
us a chance to get out of their way. It is astonish- 
ing how lucky we have been. But we must not go 
twenty miles to-night. Our future safety depends 
much on our horses ; and to go that distance, afl«r 
all they have done to-day, is too much for them." * 

" We had best stop for the night at the first place 
that seems safe. We shall sooia find if there is* dan- 
ger, and no small force will attempt to disturb us." 

In this manner they talked until they came in front 
of a small Dutch groggery, with a tavern sign before 
it, about eight miles from the spot where they landed 
in Indiana. Here they stopped, as ordinary travel- 
lers. If there were any acconmiodations in the house, 
they were already occupied; and their lodging was a 
little empty log bam — their provisions for themselves 


were fiimished fix)in their saddlebags, and their bed 
was the bare plank beside their horses. They slept^ 
soundly on the hard timber, and took an early start' 
for Corridon, twelve miles distant — ^where they ar* 
rived about eight o^dock in the morning* 

Thay were not long finding the person to whom 
they were directed. He was a true hearted colored 
man, ready to advise and assist them to the best of 
his means. They spent the day with him. It was- 
the Sabbath, and gladly would they have accepted it 
as a day of rest But the certainty that the hounds 
were behind them, rabid for their blood, robbed them 
of the quiet necessary to repose. Their horses, how- 
ever, whose strength had been so well tested, knew 
no dangfer, present or absent, and rested away their 

The colored brother who entertained them, from 
absolute poverty, had grown to be a man of sub- 
stance, notwithstanding the prejudice and injustice of 
pro-slavery men and laws. Prom him they received 
valuable information in regard to their condition in 
the free States, and advice to get out of -them into 
Canada. But he knew little of the country. The 
most he could do was, to tell them they would find 
a valuable friend in a Mr. Overrals, of Indianapolis, 
about two hundred miles distant, as he supposed, in a 
north-westerly direction — ^but could say nothing of 
the intervening country and its inhabitants. 

At midnight, the fugitives took the last lunch with 

• their hospitable friend, and mounted their horses for 

Indianapolis, They were soon lost in an immense 

810 J. w. LoatJEiT. 

forest through which their path lay—and for three 
cold days and nights wandered about without food 
enough to sustain life, and without sight of hu* 
man faces, other than the roving hunters, in whoed 
camps they slept at night Their path in the woodd 
was circuitous and angular, and covered with snow— 
therefore they were misJed from a north-west to a 
north-east coarse, and were travelling towards Ken* 
tucky. On the third day from Corridon, weary and 
hungry beyond endurance, they come into a country 
where white men lived, which was partially cultiva* 
ted— *but the inhabitants refused them food. Such ► 
was the extremity of their distress from hunger and 
cold, that their courage abated, and they began to 
talk of returning to Kentucky, 

In this extremity, they came before a log house 
and asked for food. The landlord looked at them a 
moment with an expression of unutterable kindnesdj 
and said :— * 

" You are veiy hungry ?" 


" How long since you have eat anything ?'* 

" We have eat very little for three days." 
** Come in, and my wife will get you a breakfast*** 
A boy then took their horses to the stable, and 
they followed the landlord into the house. 

"Here, Elizabeth," said he, "are a couple of 
young men who are yery hungry — they have had 
nothing to eat worth telling of for three days, I ' 
told them you would get them a breakfast." 

ALMOST 3TARV£t). 811 

The good woman turned her compassionate eyes 
Upon the half famished strangers, and said :— 

"Why, the poor creatures I They shall have 
breakfast shortly.*' 

" How happens it," asked the landlord, " ye have 
been without eating so long-^have ye no money ?" 

" Yesy sir, we have money, but were lost in the 
woods— and when we found our way out among the 
farmers, they turned us off, and refused to let us have 
anything to eat»" 

"I am sorry to say they are a set of broken down 
lilaveholder's sons, who have squatted in these woods, 
and like their fathers and mothers, respect colored 
people as beasts of burden only. But ye are on a 
wrong course — -you are going back to slavery again." 
Kind as this man seemed to be, they dared not tell 
him their case. If nature and education made them 
strong and brave, experience made them cautious 
also— therefore they replied : — 

" We are not slaves — we are free colored men." 
" Where have you been ?" 

" We have been to the lower part of Kentucky to 
Bee our relatives, and are returning to Louisville." 

John and Jarm had frequently heard of Louisville, 
and it was the only place they could speak of with 
confidence in this connection. 

" Louisville is in Kentucky — ^yott are going right 
back to slavery again. You are in a few miles of 
the river, which lays between you and your master^ 
you should go back into the coimtry. The nearer 
khe river you be, the more liable you are to be taken 

812 J. W. LOGUEN. 

and returned into Egypt. You should steer North, 
and get mto Ohio, or West, into Indianapolis, and 
then North, into Canada." 

" We have a friend at Indianapolis that we start- 
ed to visit — ^but since we got lost and suffered so 
much, we concluded to turn directly to Louisville." 

Though they repeatedly denied that they were 
slaves, their host, disregarding their denials, continu- 
ed to talk with them as if he knew their case exactly. 
He pointed his finger in the direction of Louisville, 
and said : — 

"That is the way to Louisville. Keep clear of • 
that course — ^it will take you right back to slavery. 
That is the way to Indianapolis, and that is the road 
that leads to it," said he, pointing to the north. "The 
further^ you are from Louisville and the river, the 
safer will you be." 

During the conversation, the fugitives had their 
eyes upon the good woman who was cooking their 
meals, and the rich flavor thereof goaded their irre- 
sistible appetites. She, too, often turned to look at 
them, and plainly saw she was making them grateful 
and happy. 

Such was the conversation between the parties for 
the few minutes the wife was preparing the bacon, 
coffee, &c. ; and when she came, with a smile, and 
said their breakfast was ready, they thought no crea- 
ture of Heaven could be more beautiful. It was 
charity, the dove which came down from God out of 
her heart and pictured its form in her face, that made 
her look so lovely. For the time, they seemed in- 


. CHARITY. 813 

tromitted into the sphere of goodness, and saw and 
felt it in the uses this good woman was performing, 
which made her face shine like an angel's. In after 
life, when the fog of ignorance was swept from his 
mind, and his spirit had out grown whips and chains 
entirely, Mr. Loguen, on the stimip and in the social 
circle, often returned to this case by lively mem- 
ory, and spoke of it with a moist eye and swelling 
bosom. It is one of the Emanuels of his soul, to 
which it will cling forever. 

It is needless to say that they enjoyed this meal 
greatly. The landlord and lady also enjoyed it with 
them. K it fed the bodies of the former, it fed the 
souls of the latter. Not to embarrass the young men, 
the host and lady withdrew by themselves, after 
charging them to be free and eat all they wished. 

"Poor fellows I" said the woman to her husband, 

" You love to feed the hungry, don't you, Eliza- 

" Yes, I do I" she said, with emphasis. 

" Then you know what the delight of Heaveji is, 
to wit, * the doing good to others.' It is all the de- 
light God has, and therefore it is a principle of Heaven 
that man never owns any good until he gives it away 
— then he treasures it up. Not only does God's hap- 
piness consist in doing good to the iaeighbor, but 
it makes the joy and growth of all his angels. It is 
the only genuine joy of earth and Heaven. Indeed, 
it must become our joy here, or it can never be there. 
The good we do others, we do to ourselves. So of 

314 J. W. LOGUEN. 

the evils— I am afraid it will take the masters of 
those boys a great while to find that out/' 

" But they say they are free." 

" Aye— but they are not free, or they would not be 
in this plight. They are free if they get into Cana- 
da-^otherwise they are slaves, and the worst of 
slaves. If they are caught, woe be to them P' 

" How horrible ^he wickedness that compels a per- 
son to speak untruly, as the means of obeying truth 
and justice J" 

" Truth and justice, in their internal and true sig* 
nificance, mean about the same thing. We are bound 
to be true to the internal principle, but are treacher* 
ous to it if we allow our external words and actions 
to give it to the destroyer— it would be casting pearls 
to swine. It is the intent of the heart that deter- 
mines the moral qualities of wd5:ds. Their moral 
meaning is their true meaning, and that is determin* 
ed by the good or evil they purpose to do. Because 
slavery inverts principles, it inverts the use of words 
also. It is the greatest possible liar, and to give it 
facts to live on, is * giving that which is holy to dogs.' 
It is * to take the children's bread and cast it to the 
dogs,'— and ere this be done, Christ has. charged, * let 
the children first be filled,'— and there are the chil- 
dren, (pointing to John and Jarm.) The truth con- 
sists in preserving them. If our words betray them, 
we are liars, as well when we state facts truly, as 
when we state them untruly. Slave-holders forfeit 
their right to natural truth, as they do a right to their 
aatural lives. You may bjb well say a slave may not 


knock his master down or kill him to get his freedom, 
as to say he may not tell him an imtruth to get it. 
If the latter is a wicked lie, the former is a wicked 
murder. If a poor slave takes his master's horse to 
run away from him, he is not therefore a thief. Nor 
is he a liar when he tells an untruth to the same end. 
Slave-holders live a Jie. They put themselves in a 
condition where God will not give them truth, and 
* man may not. They must change their condition, 
as the prodigal did, before mercy and truth can come 
anywhere near them.'' 

Having finished breakfast, they spent an hour or 
more with this good man and woman. After being 
warmed and fed, and clothed with clean shirts, and 
their horses were fed and rested, they prepared for a 
new start. These favors made a decided impression 
upon their spirits The discovery of such hearts 
gave them courage to hope for more, and that their 
case was not desperate, even among white people. 
They had suflfered intensely from cold and hunger, 
but they were revived again, and resolved to face 
any danger for liberty. Their only prayer was, that 
their enemy might meet them in any form but hun- 

"What shall we pay for our entertainment, sir ?" 

" You are off, then, are you ? You are welcome 
to stay longer." 

" We are anxious to be on our way, and are ready 
to .pay for the trouble and expense we have been to 
you," addressing the landlord and his lady also. 

"Your bills are paid, boys. To sympathize with 

816 J. w. Lotii-K.v. 

the delight of my wife in doing for yoii^ more than 
satisfies me for what you call trouble and expense. . 
Our- measure of payment, indeed, is pressed down 
and runs over already, and we should throw it all 
away, if we took one penny from your small means 
to pay your way to Canada. No, no^-you are wel* 
come, and may you fare no worse anywhere.'* 

" We are most grateftd • for yoor unexpected kind- 
ness. You still speak of us as slaves. We valtte 
your generosity the more, because it was intended for 
that unhappy class of our countrymen. It is not ne* 
cessary for us to repeat our denial in the matter. 
Our gratitude would be full had you entertained us 
as freemen, but we prize the act higher because you 
have done it to us as slaves — and now we have but 
one more favor to ask. Will you repeat the direc- 
tions as to the course of our journey ?" 

" Can you read writing?" 


"Take that road," pointing north, "and when 
you come to a four corners, take the left hand road, 
which will take you from Louisville and the River, 
north-westerly, towards Indianapolis. ^ In the first 
village you come to on this left hand road, you will 
find two taverns — one of brick and tne other of 
wood. Be sure ye stop at the brick one — and when 
ye have found the landlord, you may report yourselves 
to him with perfect freedom, for he is your friend. 
He will direct yoa after that, and provide for you 
whWe you are with him — and may God preserve ye,** 


said the landlord, as both he and his wife pressed 
their hands kindly. 

Touched by the kindness of these people, the 
young men started on their way, determined to obey 
instructions. The Providence that led 'them to these 
good people banished all regard for the flesh pots of 
Egypt, and they were stern in their determination to 
push for this new country called Canada. We call 
it new, because they never heard* of it until they ar- 
rived in Indiana. Siuce Ohio, too, was named, the 
memory of it as the place where his mother was free, 
was revived. Besides them, Illinois, Indianapolis 
and Louisville were the only places they could name. 
These facts show how utterly unfit they were to be 
cross questioned, or even to respond to accidental en- 
quiries in regard to themselves. 

They left the house that entertained them so kind- 
ly, in great confidence of the good will of its inhabi- 
tants. But such had been their experience of the 
frauds and tricks of white men, that .they had not 
gone far, ere they were pained by the possibility that 
even this good man (of the woman they could enter- 
tain no doubt) had laid a trap for them. So goaded 
were they by this possibility when they came to the 
four comers where ' they were to turn to the brick 
tavern, that they hesitated about taking the road= 
to it. 

The good angel prevailed over the bad one who 
suggested the falsehood, and they turned into the path 
they were directed to take, and arrived at Salem, In- 

81ft J. W. LOGUJBN. 

diana, about half after nine in the evening of th^ 
same day. 

They found the brick tavern to be a first class ho- 
tel for those days, in a new and thriving country vil- 
lage. The landlord's reception of them indicated the 
truth of all that had been told them, and they were 
kept like princes, compared to anything they had 
been used to. Nevertheless, the reflection that they 
were known or believed to be slaves, and that their 
road and stopping places were known also, was a 
thorn in their pillows, and they could not sleep, 
When the morning came, and they had forced pay- 
ment on the landlord, against his protest to the con- 
trary, and they were fairly under way again, with 
their hands unshackled and their bodies jfree, they 
were most grateful and happy. Now they began to 
be ashamed that they distrusted the sincerity of the 
hand that fed them so freely, and to feel that there 
was faith among white men after all. 

The landlord at Salem directed them to a colony 
of colored people, distant an easy day's ride, on the 
way to Indianapolis, who, he said, would be glad to 
receive them. They arrived among them the same 
evening, and were most cordially welcomed. 

This settlement was composed of fifteen or twenty 
farmers on as many small farms, which they owned 
in fee. Some of them had been slaves and obtained 
freedom by gift or purchase, and all were as happy 
as they could be, surrounded by those who despise 
and disfranchise them. 
The thieei weeks the Jo\mg men were detained 


here, was ^ succession of visits and ovations, in 
whicli they were the Apollos. The people, old and 
young, regarded them as stars dropped among them, 
attractive alike for their social and personal quali- 
ties. John Famey was a light mulatto, of exquisite 
proportions, in which strength and grace equally pre- 
dominated, and whose face was always brilliant with 
benevolence and wit. Withal, he was a graccfdl 
dancer, and gifted in all things to make him attrac- 
tive among young colored people. Mr. Loguen al- 
ways speaks of him with respect and admiration. 

Our travellers lingered with these humble and hos- 
pitable men and women, until themselves and horses 
were folly recruited — and when they determined to 
leave, and replunge into ihe cold winter, and among 
the colder hearts between them and Canada, a rustic 
ball was got up to complete the circle of civilities, 
and celebrate their departaire. 

We stop, a moment, to give a brief passage, in 
this connection, upon African character. 

The greatest philosopher of the last century says, 
love is the life of man, and that the African is the 
most loving of all the tribes of himianity. If this 
be true, the African has in him more of life than 
others of the human family. Take from a man love, 
and he can neither think, or move, or live. Affection 
is the life of the will, and moves the mind to think, 
and the body to act. One of the obvious results of 
this position is, that the African," having in him more 
of life than the European or the Asiatic, will survive 
and multiply under a greater pressure. Hence the 

320 J. W. LOGUEN. 

cold blooded Indians of both continents are expiring 
under trials, which, to the African, would be scarce 
a burden. Another consequence of this surplus af- 
fection in the African is, that he sympathizes more 
than others with human suffering and enjoyment, and 
is therefore a more perfect receptacle for the influx of 
Divine affections, or, in other words, of Divine life. 
Hence, Africans are destined to grow in numbers and 
importance, in spite of superincumbent oppression, . 
because their affections or life are more healthful and 
potent than others ; and though crowded down now 
by wrongs to the lowest sensuality, in the order of 
Providence, as a race, they will first be regenerate, 
and become spiritual and celestial men. We venture 
these deductions from the idiocrasy of the African 

Their intercourse with these kind people termina- 
ted the night of the b^ll, and they started on their 
journey again. During the night, the weather chang- 
ed from cold and dry to warm and wet, and let them 
into new experience of northern life and travel. The 
moisture grew into a gentle rain that drizzled all 
day. The snow, of course, melted rapidly, and they 
were obliged to ford several rivers at considerable 
risk. On the second day, the rivers were amazingly 
swollen, and swept before them fences and bridges. 
When they came to a river called Sugar Creek, it 
discovered at the bottom, to them, a new and singii- 
lar yellow appearance. It was quite deep and clear, - 
and ran with great force ; yet it seemed safe to ford 
it. To appearance, it was about the depth of the 


horses' breasts. Because of the color, they concluded 
it rolled on a bed of clay — not dreaming it could be 
other than solid earth. 

Notwithstanding the depth and force of the tor- 
rent, they made up their minds to ride through it. 
According to this arrangement, John drove his horse 
into the water, and found it about half breast high 
in its deepest places. Jarm followed after. About 
the time Jarm was in the middle of the stream, and 
alt was apparently safe, the foundation upon which 
John's horse walked broke beneath him, and he sank 
so that the horses' head, and John's head and shoul- 
ders, only appeared above the stream. The next 
moment Jarm and his horse went dovyrn. The bot- 
tom of the river which they thought was clay, they 
now saw was ice, and its thick and awfal fragments, 
broken by the weight of their horses, cast their 
frightful edges above the surface of the stream. It 
was a moment of terrible interest. The depth of 
the water below the ice they knew nothing of, except 
that it was beyond the reach of the horses. As they 
were sinking seemingly to a watery grave, they drop- 
ped the bridles on the horses necks and clutched their 
manes, and sank with them until their heads only ap- 
peared, and their strong arid healthy animals swam 
them to the shore.^ 

"Luck again !" exclaimed John F^.rnev. 

*\Ve note another perilous adventure, which occurred the same day, before they 
came to riugar creek, told by Mr. Loguen since the above was written. 

They came to a river which overflowed its banks, and was half a mile wide 
Jarm said it was madness to attempt to pass it, and insisted that they wait until 
, the water subsided. But John Farney was resolved not to be delayed. An obsta- 
cle of thai kind but stimuUited hb courage and love of adventure. He rolled a 

822 ' J. W. LOGUBN. 

" Luck indeed ! But it is an awfiilly narrow es- 
cape, and leaves ns in ah uncomfortable plight." 
. "Ha I ha I ha I We may as well langh as cry," 
said John, at the same time pouring the water out of 
his saddle bags. " We shall know ice under water 
after this." 

" It is awfiil luck getting iQto the water, but to get 
out of it as we have, is what we could not do in nine 
times out of ten. I believe the Lord is on our side, 
and by this He means we shall know it. We shall 
go through, I verily believe. Hurrah for freedom!" 

" There is more good luck — do you see that log 
tavern up there ?" 

" Aye — ^that was put there for us. Let us hurry 
to it and dry our clothes, and line our stomachs with 
the best meats and' drinks there are in it." 

They were soon stripped of outer garments, and 
smoking before a huge fire, which extended half 
across the bar room. They did not need inform the 
landlord of their case, for he witnessed it himself 
and was struck with their courage or temerity. He 
was therefore ready to receive them, and allow the 
familiarity their good sense led them to adopt, as the 
means of concealing their real character. 

On their first appearance at the tavern, they quaffed 
a deep drink of whiskey-r-not because they loved it, 

log into the itieain, and laying his belly flat npon it, took his horse by the bridle, 
and swam to the opposite bank. Jarm Waited anxiously on the hither shore, to 
see the possibility of the daring enterprise. Baying succeeded in passing over, 
John hired a boat and returned to Jarm, who, assHred by John's success, took his 
■addle and bags into the boat, and leading his horse by the side of it, was safely 
rowed aeross by bis brave and resolute friend. 


bat to act like fi-eemen — and at the same time called 
for dinner. While the dinner was making readj^ 
they dried their clothes and killed time as best they 

Seeing a newspaper on the table, and to cover the 
pretence that he was a freeman, Jarm took it and 
made as if he was reading it Besides the capital. 
(A) which he learned from Alice Preston, he was 
entirely ignorant of every letter of the alphabet He 
was looking for that letter — ^but when he found it, to 
his deep mortification, it was wrong end upwards! 
By that, he knew he had the paper bottom upwards. 
He instantly threw it from him, and looked around 
to see if he had not proved the falsity of his pre- 
tense, by means adopted to credit it Finding all 
was right, he took another taste of the whiskey, and 
turned to the fire — ^firmly resolved to let newspapers 
alone, until he reached a land where it was safe to 
handle them. 

Having finished their purpose at the tavern, they 
started for Indianapolis, and arrived safely at Mr. 
Overrals of that dty, in a day or two, without any 
occurrence worth relating. 

Mr. Overrals, though colored, was an educated 
man, and had a large character and acquaintance 
among colored people ; and was much respected by 
white ones, for his probity, industry and good sense. 
He received and befriended the fiigitives, as was his 
custom with all others who came to him. 

When they landed in Indiana and fired their pis- 
tols in joy of arriving on free soil, they acknowledg 

824 J. W. LOGUEN. 

ed (as before related) to the friend providentialy pres- 
entj that they were escaped slaves ; but to no other 
person did they admit it, until they found Mr. Over; 
ralfl. To him they stated their case truly, and sur- 
rendered to his directions. For the fuxure, he advis- 
ed them not to conceal the fact that they were slaves, 
if it was necessary to speak of it at all, unless to 
those known to be enemies — ^for the reason that the 
people among whom they would travel, aa a general 
thing, were more willing to befriend slaves than col- 
ored freemen. With such counsel, he sent them to a 
Quaker settlement, about forty miles from Indian- 

The Quakers received them with characterestic 
hospitaUty, and advised them to be careful and not 
bear to the east — ^that they had best go direcliy north, 
or north-west — ^for that emigrants from the slave 
States had settled into southern and eastern Indiana ; 
that a large wilderness, occupied only by Indians and 
roving hunters, separated them from settlers from 
the northern and eastern States — ^that those northern 
settlers were unlike the white men of the south and 
east — ^that they had been brought up in freedom, and 
knew nothing of slavery — ^that though they had an 
unaccountable prejudice against color, they would 
regard them with curious interest if they were slaves, 
and would help them on to Canada. They also ad- 
vised them that they were safer in this wilderness, 
among hunters and Indians, than with any other peo- 
ple short of those northem,settlers, and advised them 
to go directly through the wilderness to them. 


" Thee will stay with us until spring ?" said a 
kind hearted Quaker to them. 

. " Thank you, sir — ^we are anxious to get to Cana- 

" But it is very cold and stormy — ^thee has never 
known such cold and storms, and colored men can't 
bear cold as white men can. Thee had better stay 
with us until spring — ^thee will be welcome and safe." 

"Thank you, sir — ^we make nothing of cold — -v^^ 
have found that we stand it better than white men. 
We can make no delay for such reasons. Ensure us 
from men, and we wiU risk storms and cold." 

" Thee does not intend to say thee can endure cold 
better than white men ?" 

"We mean to say that is our experience. When 
we were little children, we wore thinner clothes than 
white children, and the white children shivered and 
suffered and complained more than we, though less 
exposed.. So has it been since we have grown up. 
With less clothing and greater exposure, we suffer 
less than white persons of our age. We stand cold 
better than white folks." 

" Everybody says white people stand cold best, and 
it must be so." 

" We never heard it said in Tennessee — ^this is the 
first time we ever heard it pretended — depend on it, 
it is not true. We can travel where our masters, or 
their sons, or the slave-catchers, any of them, would 
perish. We will risk our case on that" 

" Well — ^well — ^thee wiU act thine own pleasure — 
thou art free. I invited thee to stay through the win- 

826 • J. W. LOGUEN.. 

ter, because I knew thee was not used to the intense 
cold of the north, and because we supposed thee could 
not endure it as white people do." 

" Thadk you, sir— it is a mistake — our pursuers 
will have no advantage ot us- on this point — ^the truth 
is the other way. Colored people withstand cold bet- 
ter than white ones at the south, and we are willing 
to try it with them at the north.'' 

The popular notion that colored people endure heat 
better, and cold not so well as white people, is a matter 
unsettled between them. In all his life, Mr. Loguen 
has been compelled to encounter the severities of both 
cold and heat, in company with white men, and as the 
result of his experience, he maintains that the white 
man has no advantage of the black man as to cold, — 
and if the latter suffers less from heat, as is pretended, 
it is because his constitution is more genial. K it is 
true that the African has more of aflFection (which is 
heat and life) in him than the European, that fact may 
account for his ability to withstand both heat and cold 
better than the European. 


The Quakers supplied the young men with provis- 
ions and comforts, and they departed, through the wil- 
derness, towards Canada. A frosty wind swept ovtr 


the light snow, and cut their faces sharply. After half 
a day's travel, they passed beyond white men's log 
houses and clearings, into wild nature, where now and 
then, the Indians had mangled the forest *and built 
their cabins. Occasionally, they met one or more In- 
dians, to whom they bowed civilly, and received a 
half human response, which Indians, and those only 
who are familiar with them, understand. 

The natives were a proud and stalwart tribe, dress- 
ed in their own costume, often ornamented with 
wampum and feathers, and generally armed with 
knives, or bows and arrows or rifles. Coming sud- 
denly on them, as they did sometimes, the fugitives 
were startled by their ominous umph and imposing 
savageness. But after traveling among them and ex- 
periencing their harmlessness,'^ they were quite disarm- 
ed of apprehension on their account. 

The only annoyance from the Indians was their oc- 
casional lack of hospitality. For though generally 
they did not refuse them food and shelter, they some- 
times did refuse them. Occasionally, too, they met 
white hunters in the woods, less reliable than the sav- 
ages. These hunters told then* to look out for wild 
boars, panthers,, bears and wolves, especially the for- 
mer monster beast, which they hunted with caution 
and peril. Not without cause, they feared to start up 
these terrible animals. They often saw their tracks, 
but if they came near the boars, they knew it not. 

We said the Indians sometimes refused to entertain 
them — but not always did they accept a denial. One 
time, when night carne on and they were thus refused, 

S28 J. W. LOGUEN. 

having provided for their horses, they lay down 
among their enemies in the wigwam, and slept on 
the watch, in contempt of them. As a general thing, 
they wer^ received kindly, by night and day, and fed 
freely on the wild meats and indescribable dishes pre- 
pared for Indian palates. 

In the middle of this great solitude, while treading 
their Indian path, at the close of an intensely cold day, 
as they hoped to a hospitable shelter, they began to 
feel the symptoms of one of those tremendous storms, 
which, at the north, make winter awful, sometimes, 
but which they knew nothing about. The wind grew 
louder and louder, and swelled into an appalling 
howl. The darkening atmosphere, filled with in- 
numerable snow flakes, increasing the force of the 
hurricane, which scattered tops of trees around them, 
and occasionally tore them up by the roots and layed 
them with a horrible crash by their side. 

To them, their case was strange, remediless and 
frightful. Their path was entirely obliterated by the 
tempest, and the pale snow light was about all they 
could see. In this dilemma, they gave the reins to 
their jaded horses, and trusted them to find a way to 
a house or bam among the Indians, while they whip- 
ped their arms and hands upon their bodies to repel 
the frost. But the eyes of the horses, scarcely less 
than the eyes of the young men, were blinded by the 
snow, and they were all alike helpless. They floun- 
dered among the trees, to the peril of the riders, and 
came at last to a field of bushes and small trees, that 
Bkirted the foot of a mountain or hill,- at their left. 


This mountain, or hill, lay between them and the tem- 
pest, and broke its force — ^bnt in doing so, made it 
moan the louder and bellow its hollow thunder over 
their heads. 

Here they dismounted, and allowed their horses to 
browse among the bushes, while they greedily devour- 
ed a portion of firozen provisions that they took from 
their saddle-bags, and then, by whipping their bodies 
as aforesaid, and other exercise, they kept off sleep 
and frost till morning. When morning came, most 
joyfully did they welcome it — ^not on their own ac- 
count alone, but in regard to their poor horses, that 
needed rest and refreshment more than they. It was 
a terribly severe- night, but not half so terrible as 
many they suffered anticipating outrages from their 
masters. They looked forward to daylight, and a refuge 
from the cold storm. But no day dawns for the slave, 
nor is it looked for. It is all night — ^night forever. 

The earth was covered by a great depth of snow, 
which was unbroken by the track of man or beast. 
And still the 5torm raged, and the sky overhead re- 
sembled a crumbling snow-bank. The travellers were 
now lost, without a path to a human dwelling, or a 
star to show the point of the compass. But they could 
see — and" from the growth of small timber inferred 
they were not far from Indian dwellings, and deter- 
mined not to re-plunge into the woods, until they ex- 
plored the brush-fields for an Indian's home. 

They wallowed though the snow but a short dis- 
tance ere they came upon cleared ground and a cabin ; 
and they were kindly received and comfortably en- 

330 J. w.'loguen. 

tertained in Indian feshion. It so happened that one 
of the natives talked bad English well enough to be 
understood by them, and acted the part of an inter- 
preter. When the Indians found they had been lost 
in the woods, and in the storm all night, they (especi- 
ally the women) expressed great surprise and sympa- 
thy. In justice fo. women, they, too, testified with a 
C'olcbrated traveller, that in their extremity, they were 
sometimes repelled by white men and red men, but 
never by women, whether white or red. Woman, 
whatever her education or circumstances, represents 
the affectional element of humanity, and ultimates its 
uses in forms of kindness and love. 

The horses were kindly sheltered and fed, as well 
as themselves, by these children of nature. But the 
wind continued to pile the huge drifts around their 
dwelling, and strip the great trees of their branches, 
or tear them up by the roots, and fell them with a 
noise louder than the tempest. They were therefore 
kindly detained twenty-four hours, — ^the time the 
storm continued, — and slept a double, sleep, nour- 
ished by the bread and care of these sympathizing 

In after life, when Mr. Loguen described the offices 
of religion in his lectures and speeches, he was often 
reminded of "the good of life," or "natural good," of 
these Indians, and contrasted it with the religion of 
the whites. The former are they, who, in the true 
meaning of the Scriptures, are "bom blind," because 
without the Word of God, which is "the true light that 
lighteth every man that cometh into, the world." 


But that other class who have the Word, and yet 
spurn and oppress the needy, are they, who, in the 
ancient language thereof, "stumble at noonday." 
These, all the balsam of heaven cannot cure, because 
their blindness is internal, voluntary, and spiritual.* 
When the prevailing religion of Christendom mani- 
fests the good of life, as did those heathens, then let 
that religion be given to the heathens, and not before. 
Better be "bom blind," and live in ignorance, as they 
do, than "stumble at noonday as in the night," and 
"grope for the wall like the bhnd," as do the mind-en- 
lightened Churches of Christendom. Give the heathen 
the word of God, and suffer its mysteries to be opened 
to their understanding by the touch of truth, as Christ 

*To the antediluvians, natural things represented divine ideas, and men needed 
no letters or books to express them. Thus, "natural good," or the good a man 
does from natural reason, was represented by "clay." It is a condition receptive 
of spiritual good. The Scriptures treat if as the material of which Cliristian.s are 
made, thus — "as cla} in the hands of the potter, so are ye in my hands." Again : 
"we are the clay and thou art the potter," &c. So Christ made clay, with his spit- 
tle to cure the blind man's eyes, signifying that the intellectually blind are restor- 
ed to sight by truths, in the letter of the Word, symbolized by "spittle." 

Much is said in the Hblo of the poor, the maimed, the halt, and the blind. They 
ar-e those who ar.e principled in good, without truth. They are. saved, because they 
joy in the light when it reaches them in this world or in the world to come. Of 
the offending foot, the Lord said, "cut it off ; it is better for thee in enter 'halt' into 
Itfe, than in having two feet," &c. It is *'the poor, and the maimed, and the halt, 
and the blind," who dwell *'in the highways and hedges," and "in the lanes and 
streets of the city." and not the rich and well fed gentlemen who build palaces and 
'churches, and maintain priests, who come to the feast of Heaven. It was Lazarus 
at the gate, covered with sores, the evUd of religious ignorance, desiring crumbs 
from Moses' table, who found a supply in Abraham's bosom. The rich man who 
had those things famished in hell. Better be an Indian or nigger (modem Gentiles) 
in the good of life, as Jarm found these Indians, than the Christians who deprave 
and oppress Africans and Indians. 

It was ordained by the Levitical law, that whosoever "had a blemish," that is, 
who w;as lame, blind. &c., '* let him not approach to offer the bread of his God." 
Th986 external blemishes symbolize intellectual and spiritual blemishes. External 
blindness, for instance, in ancient literature, signifiod a lack of internal light or un- 
derstanding of truth, — a blemish in the spirit, which made the man Incompetent to 
teach, and therefore "incompetent to the priestly office, though more receptive, per- 
haps, than the priests themselves, of heavenly things. Such blind one is in a con- 
dition to be compelled to the Lord's feast, while a pampered and selfish priest or 
deacon is positively shut from it. 

This ancient representative Literature, is the Divine Word in ultimates. A true 
interpretation of it, explains all that is mythical, and literally inconsistent, and 
Bometimes meaningless and absurd, in the letter of the Bible. I*rophetic language 
is heaven's langoajfe, and therefore Dlriue. 

882 J. W. LOGUEN. 

did, rather than give it them through those whom he 
called "the blind leading the blind." In view of the . 
selfishness, pride, and oppression, which preeminently 
prevail in all, so called, Christian countries, the Lord 
may well say — "Who so blind as my servant? or 
deaf as my messengier that I sent ? Who is blind as 
he that is perfect ?" Pardon the digression, reader — 
we return to our story. 

The winds went down, and the sun rose clear again 
upon the snow-clad wilderness. But there were no 
paths, and the natives were slow to make them. The 
young men, therefore, were obliged to break their 
own track through the blind openings, pointed out to 
them, and it was a day orWo before they found a 
firm road to travel on. 

Eventually they arrived among the white settlers, 
on the northern borders of the wilderness. They 
found them, as they had been told, not like white men 
at the south. Their cultivations, agricultural and per- 
sonal, were all different, as was evident in their talk 
and manners, houses and fields. Instead of insulting 
them as white men did at the south, by swaggering . 
superiority, these men treated them as equals under 
the law, though not always with respect. As a gen- 
eral thing they were willing to entertain them — ^the 
public houses were always open to them, and they 
were never reminded that their rights were not equal 
to others — ^though often reminded that they could liot 
occupy the same social level. 

We shall not attempt to detail the particulars of 
their journey. Though tedious, trying, and fiill of 


hardsliips, and often very exciting, they are too nu* 
meroufl and monotonous to be recorded. Nor are we 
able to giye the places through which they travelled. 
If ever known, they are forgotten. -At Logansport, 
Jarin found his purse seriously diminished, and that 
he must in some way replenish it. To this end, he 
swapped his noble horse for boot money, offered him 
by a benevolent looking Qua^ker, who took advantage 
of Jarm's ignorance and necessities and his own false 
face, to cheat him. 

Here, again, was illustrated the difference between 
a northern and a southern white man, not creditable to 
the former. This white Quaker cheated him badly, 
as to the ability and value of his horse, which a white 
man at the south would be ashamed to do, to a nigger^ 
as they call a colored man. But Jarm needed the 
money, and he pocketed it, — and. when he found he 
haa been cheated, he pocketed the memory of that, 
too, and never failed to coimt it by way of discount 
upon the charitable pretensions of these really good 
people, of whom he had considerable acquaintance, in 
after life. 

As a matter of prudence, they made no further en • 
quiries, but trusted the North Star to lead them to Can- 
ada. But it was winter, and the sky often covered 
with clouds and storms — they were therefore often 
deprived of their stellar guide. By this means they 
were -unfortunately led out of their course, and in- 
stead of arriving at Detroit, as they intended, they 
passed west of the lakes, and rode hundreds of miles 
from civilized settlements into a howling wildervK'ss, 

^ 8S4 r J. W. LOGUilN. 

Here they spent some of their nights in the WoOds, 
without fire or food, when it was intensely cold. The 
Indians sometimes entertained them kindlyy and some- 
times repelled Ihem ; but their language was fts un- 
meaning as the growl of the bears and wolves they 
often scared up. Besides, they occasionally passed 
over rivers and other places dangerous alike to the 
horses and their riders. 

K the reader will remember that these hardships 
were endured with little food or shelter, he may form 
some conception of the hardihood and perseverance 
of these young men. And if he will further remem- 
ber, that the same hardships were taken in exchange 
of the genial skies of their childhood, fdr the sake of 
freedom, he may form some estimate of the value 
they put upon it. 

While plunging- among the mountains of snow iti 
this primeval wilderness, by the kindness of Heaven, 
they fell upon a hunter or trapper, who told them 
they were off their course hundreds of miles — ^that 
they had entered an illimitable wilderness, in the di- 
rection of the North Pole, and must change theif 
course or perish. He put. them Upon a south-eastern 
direction, and after incredible hardships — which may 
be faintly conceived, but cannot be detailed — they 
arrived at Detroit. They entered the city in the 
night. We need not say that they and their horses 
were much jaded — as the weather had been for days, 
and still was, among the coldest of a northern winter ; 
and as they encountered it with little food, and that 
the coarsest and most unpalatable, they were in a 


painful and suffering condition. They were nearly 
frozen, and they were nearly starved. 

In addition to these miseries, they were little used 
to cities, and it especially embarrassed and alarmed 
ihem that this was the identical point their masters 
were likely to occupy to intercept their flight. • Of 
this they were often toldj and warned to be on tho 
Watch. Such, however, was their determination for 
freedom, that cold and hunger, and death, even, were 
preferable to a return to slavery. 

Under the circumstances, they concluded to sepa- 
rate, and fish in the obscure parts of the city for 
lodgings and entertainment. They thought if an ad- 
vertisement was out for them, that it grouped them 
together^ and that they would not be so likely to be 
recognized if separate as they would be together. 
Accordingly, one of them went in one part of the 
city, and the other in another — ^seeking the obscurest 
and miserablest place to bed and board — and such 
they found. 

In the morning they met again, according to agree- 
ment, upon the spot where they separated the night 
before, and concluded to remain separate while in 
the city, and to cross separately into Canada the first. 
moment they found the ice would bear them. 

On the morning of the third day after their arrival 
at Detroit, Jarm led his old mare into Canada. 
When he put his foot on the soil, the angel of free- 
dom touched his heart, and it leapt for joy. Cold, 
cheerless, and unpromising as everything looked 
without him, he felt the divine hand within him, and 

83'] J. W. LOGtJEN. 

he instinctively exclaimed, * Lord God, I thank 
thee I — I am free I' But how different the scene be- 
fore him from *the picture which fancy touched 
bright ' when he started from Tombigbee I Ignorant 
of men and climates, he fancied that where political 
freedom was, there nature and spirit smiled in har* 
mony, and there was all but ELeaven. He took it 
for granted that all would look upon all as brothers, 
which alone would make any climate heavenly. 

John Farney came over soon afterwards, and they 
rejoiced together. John came without his horse and 
saddle, because the villains he staid with refused to 
let them go. Not for any claim they had against 
John did they retain them, but because they sup- 
posed John was a slave, and would not peril his free- 
dom in a legal contest. 

But this was not the only drawback upon their 
jubilation. They were nearly penniless ; Jarm had' 
fifty cents only, with the old mare, and John had 
less than that of cash — while his horse and Jarm's 
nice saddle were in the hands of the robbers over the 
river. The cold raging winter was new to them, and 
a serious obstacle in their new life. Besides, they 
knew not a soul in Canada ; and at Windsor where 
they were, the people talked French only, and could 
not converse with them. Nature and humanity sur- 
rounded them like a globe of ice ; but they rejoiced 
and thanked God with warm hearts. Spirit is inde- 
pendent of external nature. These evils moderated, 
but could not extinguish their joys. 

They intended, upon landing in Canada, to have a 


holiday carousal. But they had been misled and 
harrassed until their money was gone, and their hor^ 
ses, too— for Jarm's was not worth the -fifty cents he 
had in his pocket, while John's was with his robbers. 
They were disappointed, therefore, of their holiday. 
But they were deprived of the means of grosser com- 
forts, that they might enjoy more refined. and spiritu- 
al ones. So far as a jubilee was concerned, they 
were better without money than they would have 
been with their pockets foil of rocks. 

But the fiict that John Famey was thus wronged, 
stimulated him to madness. He was resolute and 
brave, and swore he would save his property or 
perish. He left Jarm for Detroit, and it was the last 
time Jarm ever saw him. He heard, he sold the 
horse, and Jarm's saddle with it, at compulsory pri- 
ceH ; but how he was separated, and lost to Jarm, he 
never knew. 

The loss of Famey specially distressed Jarm. He 

had been his companion in bondage from boyhood — 

they had travelled the wilderness together, and he 

longed for him as a companion through the promised 

land and through life. He longs for him now, and 

ever will long for him as a dear brother. He has 

saught him and advertised him jEaithfully in the 

i^orthem states and in Canada, and sfill seeks him as 

possibly among the living. If there is a being in 

the world that ge loves, and that would rejoice his 

soul to fold in his arms, it is John Famey. Se is 

sure John has not returned to slavery,- for his brave 

and manly soul would not endure it. He thinks it 

S38 J. w* LootncK. 

most probable that he has been dmitten down among 
strangerS) and committed to a nameless septQchxe-^ 
that time has closed over him without a trace, but in 
Jarm's bosom, of hia noble qualities 

Not being able to get employment at Windsor, and 
discouraged of fiirther waiting for his companion, 
Jarm started on alone. Without money, he manag* 
ed to get one meal a day for himself, and sufficient 
feed for his horse until he arrived at Chatham. 

At Chatham his prospects were no better. Driven 
to his wits fol* dear life, he swapt the old marie for an* 
other and two or three shillings of boot money— put 
together a jumper— fastened the thills to the stirrup 
straps of his saddle, and thus rigged, mounted the 
vehicle and drove to London. 

In the neighborhood of London he stayed with a 
farmer three or four days, to whom he sold the old 
horse for his board and a few shillings. Finding 
nothing to do at London, he availed himself of an 
opportunity to ride with a stranger to Ancaster, and 
in a like manner pushed his Way through Dundas to 

Of his situation at Hamilton at this timej we let 
him tell his own story. In a letter to Frederick 
Douglass, dated Syracuse, N. Y., May 8th, 1866, he 
describes that situation, and contrasts Hamilton as it 
now is, with what it then was, thus : — 

" On the western termination of Lake Ontario is 
the village of Hamilton. It is a large, enterprising 

flaoe, amid scenery, placid, beautiftd and sublime, 
t id in a delightfiil valley, which runs east and west. 


On the north is a beautiM lake, and on the south a 
perpendicular mountain towers up some two or three 
hundred feet, and hangs its brow over the village. 
Here are quite a number of our people, doing well so 
far as I could leam-^able and willing not only to 
help the fugitive, but to join with able and willing 
white men around them to furnish him an asylum. 
How changed in twenty years I My dear friend, in* 
dulge me nere a moment. Hamilton is a sacred and 
memorable spot to me ; and I cannot slightly pass it. 
I could not stand upon its soil without a flood of sad 
and sweet and gushing memories. It seems to me, 
and ever will seem to me, a paternal home. I shall 
never visit it without the feelings which a child feels 
on returning after weary years to his father's house. 
Twenty 'one years ago— the very winter I left my 
chains in Tennessee-— I stood on this spot, penniless, 
ragged, lonely, homeless, helpless, hungry and for* 
lorn— a pitiable wanderer, without a friend, or shel- 
ter, or place to lay my head. I had broken from the 
sunny South, and fought a passage through stormp 
and tempests, which made the forests crash and the 
mountains moan — diflaculties, new, awful, and unex- 
pected, but not so dreaded as my white enemies who 
were comfortably sheltered among them. There I 
stood, a boy twenty-one years of age, (as near as I 
know my age,) the tempest howling over my head, 
and my toes touching the snow beneath my worn-out 
shoes — -with the assurance that I was at the end of 
my journey — ^knowing nobody, and nobody knowing 
me or noticing me, only as attracted by the then sup- 
posed mark of Cain on my sorrow-stricken face. I 
stood there the personification of helpless courage 
and finited hope. The feeling rushed upon mc, 
' Was it for this that I left sweet skies and a moth- 
er's love T On visiting this place now, I contrast the 
present and past. Ko Underground Railroad took 
me to Hamilton, White men had' not tlien leaj'ned 

tM > J. W. LOGUEN* 

to care for the far off slave, and there were no thriv- 
ing colored farmers, mechanics and laborers to wel- 
come me. I can never forget the moment. I was in 
the last extremity. I had freedom, but nature and 
man were against me. I could only look to God, and 
I prayed, * Pity, O my Father — ^help, or I perish 1' 
and though all was frost and tempest without, within 
came warmth, and trust, and love ; and an earthly 
father took me -to his home and angel wife, who be- 
came to me a mother. He thought a body lusty and 
stout as mine, could brave cold, and cut cord wood, 
and split rails — and he was right. I agreed to earn 
my bread, and did much more than that ; and he re- 
warded my labors to the extent of justice. They paid 
me better than \ asked, and taught me many lessons 
of religion and life. I had a home and place for my 
heart to repose, and had been happy, but for the 
thought that ever torments the fugitive, that my 
mother, sisters and brothers were in cruel bondage, 
and I could never embrace them again. 

" My dear Douglass, you will not think it strange 
I speak of my q^ in contrast with the now state of 
things in Canada. ^Hamilton was a cold wilderness 
for the fugitive when I came there. It is now an 
Underground Railroad Depot, where' he is embraced 
with warm sympathy. Here is where the black inan 
is disencumbered of the support of master and mis- 
tress, and their imps, and g(^ta used to self-ownership. 
Here he learns the first lessons in books, and grows 
into shape. Fortunately for me, I gained the favor 
of the best white people. My story attached them to 
nie. They took me mto the Sabbath School at Ham- 
ilton, and taught mc letters the winter of my arrival ; 
and I graduated a Bible reader at Ancaster, close by, 
the succeeding summer. All the country around is 
familiar to me, and you will not wonder I love to 
come^here. I love it because it was my first resting 
place* from slavery, and I Jove it the more because it 


has been, and will continue to be, a city of refuge 
for my poor countrymen." 

In the spring after his first arrival in Hamilton, he 
hired himself to a farmer in the neighborhood, at 
$10 a month, to roll and burn logs in clearing land. 
From that time he never failed to find employment,, 
at good prices, and to lay up money. 

Having become a reader, after two years hard labor 
for good wages, and aft«r acquiring the character of 
an able, feithful,'and judicious farmer, in good repute 
as a man and citizen, he assumed the name he now 
bears. His paternal sir name was Logue — ^but he 
disliked that name, and added to it the letter n, to 
sviit his taste. The name Jarm, which his master 
gave him, was an abbreviation of Jarmain. His 
Methodist fiiends insisted he should adopt the name 
of Wesley for his middle name, which he did — and 
from this time forward was known only by the name 
of Jaemain Wesley Loguen. 

In the spring of the third year after his arrival in 
Canada, he took a farm of 200 acres to work on 
shares. The operation was highly profitable, and at 
the end of the second year he had increased his little 
capital several hundred dollars; and being single, 
strong, persevering and spirited, was really indepen- 
dent. But unhappily he was persuaded to take a 
partner, and that ruined him. At the time he com- 
menced with his co-partner, this farm was well stock- 
ed with his own animals and implements. But so 
soon as they harvested their large crops and preplared 
them for market, which 'cost much labor and money, 

342 J. W. LOGUEN. 

they were all seized under attacliments or executions 
against his partner, for debts previous to the paitoer- 
ship. And because Loguen was unacquainted with 
his rights, all his property, with the exception of his 
clothing, a little money, a span of horses, wagon and 
harness, worth about $300, was swept away by the 
creditors of his partner. 

Disgusted and irritated by his fortune, he forthwith 
left that part of Canada, and invested the whole 
of his remaining capital in a house and lot in St 
Cathrines, and thus became a small proprietor under 
the crown of England. 

But he did not stay at St. Cathrines. He immediate- 
ly crossed the lake into the States, and came to Eoch* 
ester in the fall of 1837. Without property or ac- 
quaintance, his person and address commended him 
to the keeper of the Eochester House — ^then the most 
fashionable Hotel in that growing city. He was in- 
stalled porter and confidential servant of the"iestab- 

Mr. Loguen was now about twenty-four years of 
age, of gigantic strength, temperate, moral, patient, 
and attentive to boarders and guests ; and being eco- 
nomical in his receipts, he laid up from three to five 
and six dollars a day, and at the end of two years 
became possessed of a small estate. Among the 
boarders at the Eochester House at this time, was 
Gen. Champion, a bachelor resident of that city, of 
wide fame for wealth, purity, and benevdlence. The 
qualities of Mr. Loguen attracted his special regard ; 
and when he distributed a Bible to each of the ser- 


vants — as it was his custom to m^e them an amioal 
present — ^he distinguished Loguen from the rest by 
giving him a large Polyglot family Bible, which he 
still retains in respect to the donor. 

During Jtf r. Loguen's residence at Rochester, the 
peace and passions of the people and government of 
Canada were disturbed by some two or three hundred 
citizens of the State of New York, who, without au- 
thority, privately armed themselves and took posses- 
don of Navy Island, in Canada, and thus commenced 
what was popularly denominated the Patriot War. 
The intent of this invasion was, to produce a Tcvo- 
lution of the Province, separate it from England into 
an independent State, or annex it to the U. S. 

On the night of the 30th of December, 1888, Sir 
Allen McNabb^ who had the charge of the British 
forces to repel the invasion, sent a squadron of armed 
boats across the river, and seized and burned the 
steamboat Caroline, while fastened to the dock at 
Schlosser. In the melee, an American, one of the 
hands on the boat, was shot through the head and 
killed. The boat was burned because it was employ- 
ed by the fillibusters to carry men and arms and pro- 
visions from the American to the Canadian side. 

The invasion of Canada on one side, and of the 
States on the other, and the slaughter of men on both 
Rides, created intense excitement on the frontiers, and 
fears were entertained by some, that the passions pro- 
^ voked by these harebrained invaders, might mingle 
in the politics of the country, and bring on a general 

844 J. W. LOGUEN. 

The colored poptdation of Canada at that time was 
small, compared to what it now is; nevertheless, it 
was sufficiently large to attract the attention of the 
Grovemment They were almost, to a man, fugitive 
slaves from the States. They could not,, therefore, 
be passive, when the success of the invaders would 
break the only arm interposed for their security, and 
destroy the only assylnm for African freedom in 
North America. The promptness with which several 
companies of blacks were organized and equipped, 
and the desperate valor they displayed in this brief 
conflict, are an earnest of what may be expected from 
the swelling thousands of colored fugitives collecting 
there, in the event of a war between the two coun- 

We write of facts, not of possibilities. Neverthe- 
less, we may assert what is allowed on the other side 
of the lines, that these able-bodied and daring refu- 
gees are the most reliable fortress of national strength 
on the Canadian frontiers ; and ere it is scaled by 
slave-holders or their abettors, a 'tale will be told that 
will make the ear that hears it tingle. And should 
pro-slavery folly and persistence raise the spirit of 
the North, or of any part of the country, to the 
point that admits the African element in a war for 
freedom, the blacks of Canada will be found over- 
leaping .national boundaries ; and, gathering the sym- 
pathizing forces in the line of march, will imprint 
upon the soil of slavery as bloody a lesson as was 
ever written. 


We have alluded to this flare-up on the frontiers, 
by way of introduction to the following feet. 

During the same winter, Mr. Loguen went over to 
St Catharines to dispose of his house and lot, of 
which we have before spoken. At this time, though 
the forces were still under arms, the back bone of 
the invasion was fairly broken, by the interference 
of the Government of the United States.* Never- 
theless, while there, he was urgently solicited by the 
Government of Canada to accept the captaincy of a 
company of black troops in the Provincial Army. 
We mention this fact, to show the estimate he had at- 
tained for fidelity, bravery, judgment, and manly 
conduct. But because the war had very nearly clos- 
ed, and his brethren and friends were therefore out 
of danger — ^and because he was profitably employed 
at his home in Eochester, he respectfully declined the 
compliment, and having sold his lot, returned to his 

^Inasmuch as these fiUibusters made this aasault on Cunada without aulhority 
of any natioa, Siate, or political power whaterer, they were properly regarded by 
the Provincials as Pirates, and the captives were shot, or hung, or sent to Botanr 
Bay. And inasmuob, also, as they were American citizens, who, thus organiieJ, 
equipped, and embaAed from the United States, against a people at peace with 
them, they were subject to the severe penalties provided by Congress against such 
offenders. President Van Buren issued his proclamation for their rigid prosecu- 
tion, and notified those who were or might he captured, that tliey would be left, 
without protection or sympathy, to the mercy of the Government they assailed. 

The filUbusters Y^ere thus promptly taught that incursious for the 'conquest of 
northern Territory were less adapted to the national taste, than like forays for the 
conquest of Texas, Mexico, Cuba, and the Isthmus. The instant and decided check 
given to this northern m^e, effectually onrbed unlawful enterprizea in that direc- 
tion ; and the only vent for national pfussioDB in this regard, has been found to lay 
at the South. The only prospect of inereasiog the slave power in the Senate and 
in Congress is that way, and there its attrMt^ns are irresistable. 

846 J. W. LOGUEK. 


At the Eocliester House Mr. Loguen first heard the 
roar and felt the br^th of the storm for the liberty 
of his countrymen. At the South, slavery shut him 
from a knowledge of public events ; and hitherto, at 
the North, his circumstances limited him to the nar- 
row circle of his own interests. Unschooled in the 
philosophy of history and the growth of humanity, 
he looked for nothing beyond that circle. He had 
been inaccessible to the spirits who were evolving 
the problem of liberty, and was insensible to the 
growing struggles against despotism every where. 
Eight hundred, thousand slaves threw down their 
chains in the West Indies, and he heard it not. The 
early mobs, lynchings, and murders, the violations of 
the post office, and the rude attempts to stifle the 
tongue and the press, to prevent agitation, all went 
by and he did not know it. Happ^y, the powers of 
Church and State were impotent to keep down the 
volcanic fires which were struggling to the sur&ce: 
Efforts to suppress them made them break out the 
more, and blaze brighter and hotter, until bastard 
priests and selfish politicians were driven to open 
alliance with the right on one side, and with the 
wrong on the other. Mr. Loguen could not be in- 
different to the boisterous discussions about slaveiy 

Fia LEAVSS. 847 

iu the bar room, and tte more quiet and considerate 
ones in the parlors, where his business called him. 

" Now what is the state of the Fig Tree ?" said a 
gentlemen in v, private parlor to another .gentleman, 
w^hose conversation and appearance attracted attention 
and respect during the few days he had been there. 

" There is a perceptible change since we last naet. 
The branches are growing tender and the leaves mul- 
tiplying. Have you seen Marcy's Message ?" 

" Yes. He recommends a law to put an end to 
these abolition gatherings, as disturbers of the public 

" la vain do the heathen rage, and the people im- 
agine a vain thing. He may as well attempt to chain 
the winds and the lightnings. The devil's entrench- 
ments are breaking up— his institutions crumbling — 
and the grand man is progressing to a new and better 

" But what has that to do with the Fig Tree ?" 

" Why, there is such a thing as natural good. In 
God's Book, read by the Ancients — ^who could see 
spiritually and naturally alike — ^it was represented by 
the Fig Tree. When men loved rational truth, and 
sought it by the light of nature, they said its branches 
grew tender and the leaves put forth. The branches 
are the affections budding into leaves or rational 
truth. This natural good stimulates the rational and 
intellectual man to benefit his physical condition, as 
the means under God of opening the way to his lost 
spiritual condition. That is the substance and intent 
of the prophesy. The heart receives spiritual good 

848 J. w. LOGUfiN. 

througli the understanding. K the understanding — 
which is the eye of the mind or soul — does not see 
and present the goodness and beauty of truth to the 
will, .then the will can never embrace it. To this 
end, tliis is an age of natural light. Genius is put 
to the extent of its powers to produce natural good, 
to acquire wealth, distinction, and station. The mind, 
instead of the hand, is doing the world's work — 
hence Eail Eoads, Telegraphs, Agricultural and Me- 
chanical inventions, and the thousand and one artis- 
tic powers to supercede laboEy which are conforming 
the affairs of this world to a new mental state ; and 
hence, too, the corresponding combinations for the 
relief of the poor, the drunken and enslaved. These 
are the fig leaves, my friend. The imderstanding of 
the age has fallen in love with natural truth, that in 
i^ts efforts to attain it, it may strike the current of 
moral and spiritual good and unite with them. How 
long will slavery, or other false thing of the passing 
age, be secure at such a time ?" 

"But, my dear sir, the Church, politicians, the in- 
tellect of the country, are largely on the side of 

" Of course — ^where the carcass is, the Eagles are 
gathered. The Lord has prophesied that when the 
Fig Tree begins to warm and grow and show its 
leaves, the old Church will be a carcass, a corpse, 
ajad the Eagles, that is, the perverse rational and in- 
tellectual powers will feed upon its carrion. The 
Eagles are the Pope, the Priests, and sects, and poU^ 
tioians of every sort. The Christian Church to-day 


is in the state the Jewish Church was when it excom- 
municated its Lord. It is a dead carcass, dissolving 
as its essence is turned to uses. One says Christ is 
here, and another that he is there. Its sects have 
torn the Bible to pieces in regard to doctrines, wtile 
charity is crucified in their midst We have no 
Bible, no Church, if it is not in the incipient love or 
heat which is thawing out. th-e fig tree and making 
its branches bud again. I tell you God is in this 
heat — it is his life — ^it comes from his own great 
heart, the source of all life, and is therefore Omnipo- 
tent. My dear fellow, mark me — it is now Septein- 
ber, 1839 — see how this matter stands twenty years 
hence, if you and I live so long. Do you see that 
fellow there ?" — ^pointing to Loguen. 

" WeU, what of him ?" 

"Why, he has heard so much about liberating the 
slaves, that he is getting excited. He has been con- 
sulting me whether he had best go to Oneida Institute, 
and get Beriah Green to whet his sword, to battle in 
the war of Eagles. There are two kinds of Eagles, 
—one the understanding and love of truth, and the 
other its opposite." 

" I admire your illustrations — ^but what did you 
tell Loguen ? He is a dunce to think of leaving 
here. He is a great fetvorite, and is making his five 
dollars a day. What did you tell him ?" 

" I told him to stay here and attend to his busi- 
ness — ^that he would make a great sacrifice to little 
purpose — ^ior that in my opinion emancipation de- 
pended on the progress of truth among the whites. 

850 J. W. LOGUEN. 

But I believe he is determined to be his ovm coun- 
seljor. I expect he will go — ^there he comes." 

Loguen had been passing in and out of the room 
durmg this conversation, and heard a considerable 
part of it. 

" They say you talk of leaving for the Oneida In* 

" I have been thinking of it, and have about made 
up my mind to go." • 

" You are very useful here, and in good business — 
laying up money. Won't you make a mistake ?" 

"I can't be easy when there is a possibility of do- 
ing something for the freedom, of my popr mother, 
brothers, sisters and friends. I lack education, and it 
seems as if it was my duty to acquire it, and use it 
for my kindred and friends." 

" I am not going to argue the case with you. . K 
you have made up your mind to go, the case is set- 
tled — but I am decidedly of the opinion you will re- 
gret it. I don't blame you for feeling deeply for 
your kindred — ^but I don't believe their interest will 
be advanced by surrendering your place here." 

" I am not likely to want — I have not labored in 
vain for the last five or six years." 

" I know you have laid up money — ^and what I 
want is, that you go on laying it up. How many 
thousand dollars have you in the bank?" 

" 0, my dear sir, I have got but little money. I 
have been a single man, you know — ^no wife or rela- 
tion to provide for. I don't drink, or gamble, or dis- 
sipate in any way, as some of our people do. I have 

HIS ECONOMY. . ^ 851 

been very industrious and economical, and it would 
be strange if I had not saved a little money. What 
I want is, to make my money useful. I would make 
it a part of myself to that end only. If it takes a 
little of it to improve my learning, it will not be 
thrown away,* I hope, and I shall have some left. Be- 
sides, I don't intend to break in on my little capital 
much. I shall spend the vacations in efforts to im- 
prove the colored people in Utica, Syracuse, and 
Kochester, and wherever else I may improve them — 
for it seems to me they have a part to act in this case, 
and need preparation to act well. In doing this, I 
trust Providence I shall not be a loser. Besides, I 
may spend some of the winters in service here. I 
don't think I shall reduce my capital much." 

" Well, you will do as you please, of course — ^but 
I can't help thinking ycu err." 

At the end of abo,ut two years from the time he 
entered the Eochester House, Mr. Lougen settled up 
with it — ^put his money in the bank — ^packed his 
clothes, and went to Whitesboro, and entered the 
Oneida Institute, under the celebrated Beriah Green, 
the President of the Institute.* During the winter 
vacations of his first* two years at the Institute, he 
returned to his post in the Eochester House, and 
earned more than enough to pay his expenses at the 
College — ^thus demonstrating that, if the door of ed- 

*Mr. Ix^uea wai induced to take this course by the Rey. E. P. Rogers, of New- 
ark, New Jersej — a colored man of distinction, who was then a member of the 
Institute. Mr, Rogers spent a portion of the time he belonged to the Institute in 
teaching at Rochester, and there made the acquaintance of Mr. Loguen, in whom 
he discovered qualities and talents which, in his opinion, were due to the public ; 
and having obtained his consent, made application at the Institute, and procured 
bis admisiiion, before Logum wu prepared to pass the required examinalion. 

352 J. W. LOGUBN. 

ucation be open, colored youth, as well as white ones, 
may overcome the obstacles to education which pov- 
erty interppses. 

The third winter after he entered the College, he 
went to Utica to learn the condition of colored peo- 
ple there, and inptitute a school for their children, and 
assist them to a higher plane of civilization. At that 
day, Utica was in advance of the cities of the North 
in regard to freedom — and its anti-slavery attractions 
secured the residence of an intelligent and spirited 
colored population. It was already renowned as the 
, place where the Abolition Society of the State of New 
York had its birth in a mob,, stimulated by one of 
the Judges of the Supreme Court* — ^and where the 
doctrine of the absolute anti-slavery character of the 
Constitution, and its utter incompatibility with sla- 
very, even in the slave States, (which is. fast growing 
to be public o]^inion) was first broaohed.f 

At this time, colored children were excluded from 

♦Judge Beardsley, 

f Two fugitive siaye^ from Virginia, were brought before Judge Hayden, of the 
Common Fleas, under the la v of '93, at the instance of two man-hunteirs from 
that State. The prosecution waa conducted by Joshua A. Spencer, Esq., late of 
Utica, deceased, and the defence by Alyain Stewart, Esq., of the same pUbe, also 
deceased. It occasioned great excitement, intensely enhanced by one of the most 
ingenious, able, and touching arguments for the slayes that oyer set a great audi- 
ence in indignation and tears. The Judge deliyered them to the claimants, and 
they were accordingly imprisoned in a walled room, the door locked and barred, 
with armed bullies to guard it. But the braye colored men of Utica, armed with 
clubs, broke into the prison, and after a battle which made sore heads among the 
captors and bullies, rescued the slaves, and detained the claimants and bullies in 
the same prison, until the former were out of reach. So sadden and bold waa 
i\n>* dfed, that tbe enemy was dumbfounded, land the black heroes were ney«r 
known to them. At that early day, Alyain Siewart, Esq., was condemned for m- 
prrting the unconstitutionality of slavery by some who have since been his able 
backers. He declared it on the stump, in the papers, and before the Ooorts. And 
espocially in a memorable case before ihe Supreme Bench of New Jersey. Hia ar- 
gument m that case was published in full, and was universaUy v^garded mi a fie- 
rious specimen of originality and strength of genius, power of argument, Imewlc 
edge of first principles, of law, of Ihe Constitation, of ioaohing and powerral OMi> 
' bination of thoughts and affections, which demonstrate the Iftwgrer, the oiator, 
tiiv pUilo:M>pher, the great and good and hearMi-gifted man. 


the common scliools, though their parents were taxed 
for the support of such schools. At the request of 
the principal families, Mr. Loguen hired a room and 
commenced teaching. The first day but three sohol- 
. ars came to school — ^but the number soon increased 
to forty, and they learned rapidly. At the close of 
the term, the peopla were desirous of a public school 
exhibition, and a large room was provided .therefor. 
The children procured pieces to speak, and composi- 
tions to read, and clothes to wear, and presented 
themselves in all the pride of juvenile humanity on 
the stage, to a large and mixed audience. It was the 
first exhibition of colored children, it is presumed, in 
central or western New York. It succeeded admira- 
bly.. Speeches were made complimenting the children • 
for their proficiency, propriety and accomplishments, 
and thanking Mr. Loguen for the good he had done. 

Mr. Loguen now began to feel the delight of liv- 
ing for use — the only real delight God allows to man. 
Men desire to serve in heaven, and are therefore hap- 
py — ^they desire to rule in hell, and are therefore 
miseraj)le. If we had nothing elso- to prove the sin 
of slavery, it would be enough that it denies to the 
slave the heavenly joy .of doing good to the neigh- 
bor. InasTQuch as religion and heaven consist in 
thus doing, the system is precisely infernal that for- 
bids it — for that is the soul of all joy in earth and 

The clauses in our State and national constitutions 
which forbid the governments of the country to es- 
tablish religion, or to -prohibit *the free exercise 

864 .J. W. LOGUEN. 

thereof/* assert and vindicjate the basis principle 
of the divine constitution. The prohibition is as ex- 
plicit in its application to the slave as to the freeman. 
Indeed, it is se ipse the inhibition of slavery. It is a 
positive , guaranty that every human being^shall be 
free to exercise all the privileges and indulge all the 
joys of his own religion. The "whole fabric of sla- 
very disappears in the presence of such constitutional . 
provisions. What is religion but to live the com- 
mand, 'Love God and the neighbor?' The Lord 
himself has told us " on these two hang all the law 
and the prophets," — ^that is, everything, relating to 
truth and goodness and human duty depend on thein. 
What, then, can be more destructive of man'H reli- 
• gion, than to take from him the right to know God 
and his duties, and thrust him, without rights, among 
brutes and things ? Eeligion is truth in act ; there- 
fore the Lord said, " Ye shall know the truth, and 
the truth shall .make you free." 

While at the College, Mr. Loguen also had charge 
of a class of Sunday scholars at Utica. There he 
met, for the first lime, Caroline Storum, on a visit to 
her friends. An intimacy commenced between him 
and Caroline, which ripened into mutual attach- 
ment, and resulted in their marriage on the day of 
the election of General Hajrison in 1840, at the 

*The clause in the Constitution of the United States on this subject reads thus : 
'' Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of Religion, orprokOh- 
iting the free exercise thereof." 

A similar clause is in each of the Constitutions of each of the States. The Oon- 
gtitution makers and adopters either did not know what religion was, or thej in- 
tended to give ctHored men-x-and even slayes, if there could be daTes— •perfect 
freedom in matters of religion. If they did not so intend, then, happQy. they 
were misled to adopt a provision which, in a clearer day, will secure a perfeci foun- 
dation fur just legislation and judicial action in regard ie hnxnan rights, inreedom 
in Religion is freedom tbroughoaC 


house of her father and mother, William and Sarah 
Storum, at Busti, Chatauque county,. N. Y. 

Mr. and Mrs. Storum emigrated, from New- Hart- 
ford, in the State of New York, to Busti, in 1816, 
when Chatauque county was new. They travelled 
in an ox cart, with all their effects, and purchased 
and took possession bf one hundred and forty acres 
jof good land, cleared and subdued it to a high state 
of cultivation, and made it one of the best farms of 
the county. They were both slightly tinged with 
African blood ; but nevertheless were estimated by 
their lives and character among the well-informed 
and estimable citizens. Caroline was privileged with 
the best education country opportunities afforded. 
The- standing and respectability of the family always 
protected her against prejudice of color, which effects 
so many of her race. 

This connection was a fortunate event in the life 
of Mr. Loguen. Mrs. Loguen was about twenty 
years of age when married — of pleasing person and 
address, amiable, and of that best of breeding which 
undervalues the shining and superficial, and highly * 
esteems the intellectual and substantial, the useful and 
the good — qualities which fitted her to instruct her 
household, and even her husband, in some things,* 
— and to receive, comfort and bless the hundreds of 
fugitives from slavery who found an asylum at her 
house, — ^which, therefore, acquired the eminently ap- 
propriate appellation of the Underground Bail 
BoAD Depot at Syracuse. 

*lAi, Loguen often says he wishes he was as well educated aa hia wife. 

856 J. W. LOGUEN. 

At Whitesboro he first made a public profession 
of religion, and united witb tbe colored people's 
Chiirch at Utica. His religious state long before 
made such a connection desirable ; but his disgust of 
the Chiyrches at the South, and North also, on ac- 
count of their pro-slavery attachments, were so great, 
that he rejected all church relations until he found 
the colored church at Utica. 

In speaking of a public profession of religion and 
uniting with the Church, we adopt the language of 
the age in reference to visible and external forms 
only. We may not leave the topic without saying, 
that a profession of religion and union with the 
Church, in the opinion of Mr. Loguen, are quite dif- 
ferent things. The professions which men make 
. with their mouths ' and the Church unions thev make 
for their convenience, are mere external things — often 
mere shams, and entirely empty of everything reli- 
gious. There is but one Church, and he that per- 
forms Heaven's uses by doing good to the neighbor, 
in the very act of performing such uses, publicly pro- 
* fesses the only true faith, and enters the true Ohuuch. 
Like the ancient Jews, who took the symbol for the 
idea symbolized, too many modern Christians (or 
Jews, for such Christians are scriptural Jews,) adopt 
the form for the substance, and make it of infinite 
account. It will be a glorious-consummation, when 
that delusion, like the Levitical symbols, is dissolved 
by the truths, which, in these latter days, are forming 
a new Heaven and a new Earth, 



In the year of our Lord one thousand eight hun- 
dred and forty-one, Mr. Loguen began his residence 
in Syracuse, and with the exception of five years — 
three at Bath, Steuben county, and two at Ithaca, 
Tompkins county, N. Y. — ^has resided there ever 

The condition of colored people, and the progress 
of popular sentiment in regard to slavery in Syra- 
cuse, deserve a brief notice. There, as in all the 
country, the Churches and political parties were 
adapted to slavery as it was, and were unwilling to 
be disturbed by it. Indeed, it was the judgment of 
those bodies that the prosperity of both Church and 
State demanded that the old state of things be undis- 
turbed. It has been a steady and persistent struggle 
with that idea, in the minds of politicians, ministers, 
and people, that has placed Syracuse in a precisely 
opposite position to that she occupied then. If TJtica 
occupied the highest ground on this subject at that 
day, Syracuse, unhappily for her fame, occupied the 
lowest. She has been lifted out of her natural mud, 
and raised somewhat from her moral, political and re- 
ligious mud, by cotemporary agencies. 

We are told that men " can receive nothing unless 
it be given them from heaven," — ^that " every good 
and perfect gift cometh down from the Father of 

858 J. W. LOGUSK. 

lights." I^ then, Syiucuse haa advanced in liberiy 
and religion, inasmuch as she has done it in opposi- 
tion to the extei*nal organizations of the city and 
country, we infer it is by the influx of divine good- 
ness through the feeble few who stood by- the right, 
and who, by virtue of such goodness, were stronger, 
than the strongest. It is thus that divine love and 
wisdom are .ever received by self sacrificing ones, and 
poured upon the darkness of the world. They form 
the connecting link between earth and heaven— they 
are the home of God — ^the true Church, whose divine 
activities overcome the world and preserve it. 

In 1835, the anti-slavery men of the county of 
Onondaga assembled at the old Baptist church in 
the city, to organize a County Anti-Slavery Society. 
Among them, as visitors, were Gerrit Smith, Alvan 
Stewart, Beriah Green, William Goodell, Charles 
Stuart of England, and other illustrious agitators, 
who gave birth and embodiment to a new public sen- 
timent in central and western New York. This 
proposition aroused the prominent men in the "politi- 
tical and religious organizations of the city, to take 
measures to prevent it. The then leadeM of the anti- 
Abolitionists were T. T. Davis, Judge Pratt, John 
Wilkinson, V. W. Smith, and others, who rallied 
the unthinking citizens into the convention, to prevent 
its action by their irregularities. The business com- 
mittee reported resolutions and a constitution for the 
Society, and the convention po^ed the resolutions .be- 
fore the disorganizers came into it. Judge Pratt led 
off in a lengthy speech against the entire movement, 


followed by T. T. Davis and John Wilkinson,— all 
Speaking at considerable length— when Beriah Green 
got the floor, and occupied nearly two hours in an ar« 
gument of tremendous power, showing the dangers 
and atrocities of Slavery* 

When Mr. Green finished his speech, the question 
was called for— but all attempts to put the question 
.were drowned by the loud cries and disorderly con- 
duct of the opponents. They would consent to hear 
speeches, but absolutely forbid a vote on the constitu- 
tion. Being too few to Vote the constitution down, 
they resolved to prevent its adoption by disturbance,* 
and in that they succeeded. The meeting was ad- 
journed for an evening session ; but instead of meet- 
ing in the evening, as the anti* Abolitionists expected, 
the Abolitionists secretly retired to Fayetteville, in 
the same county,- and completed their organisation. 

Determined in their purpose to prevent the forma- 
tion of a Society, the anti- Abolitionists returned 
again to the Church in the evening, and found it shut 
and alone. There they appointed a venerable and 
respectable citizen to the chair, (Mr. Eedfield,) and 
also appointed a committee^ on resolutions, of which 
V. W. Smith was chairman. A set of resolutions 
were reported by Mr. Smith, and passed by them, 
denouncing the purposes of the Abolitionists, and de- 
claring it inexpedient to form an anti-Slavery Society 
in the county of Onondaga. These resolutions were 
paraded in the public' papers-— which also denounced 
the Abolitionists, and gloried over their supposed 

860 J. W. LOGUEN. 

Thus far, the resistance of the anti-Abolitionista 
showed a political front only ; and the ministers and 
Churches, however they sympathised with such re- 
sistance, were mainly content to scout the Abolition- 
ist§, their principles and aims, -as schismatical antag- 
onisms to the unity of the Church, and therefore de- 
serving religious condemnation. But the growing 
hostility to slavery originated in religious motives 
only ; and its political manifestations were Wit the 
ultimation of interior convictions, which several prom- 
inent, influential, and eminently good men in the 
•Church believed were wrought by the Holy Ghost, to 
be carried into their lives— or that their religion was 
a gross delusion* 

The largest number of the Abolitionists belonged 
to the Presbyterian Church, the most popular, wealthy 
and commanding congregation in the city, then im- 
der the charge of the learned and venerable Dr. Ad- 
ams. All the Churches — the Presbyterian Church 
especially — were alarmed by the progress of anti- 
slavery in the city and country. Several of the tru- 
est and most reliable members of the latter Church 
were infected by the contagion, and it trembled with 
the revolutionizing sensations of its own bosom. The 
State Abolition Society, at this time, were scattering 
their tracts, papers and books, like the leaves of au- 
tumn over the State, at an immense expenditure of 
money, industry and learning — and its talented lec- 
turers were gathering the people into the school 
houses and churches in many places, in spite* of mobs 
and ridicule, and every form of abuse — pointing 


them to the history of slayetj, its atrocities and 
meanness — ^and urging them to arrest its progresi^ 
ere liberty and religion, law and constitution, were 
defeced by its bloody steps. 

In the year 1887, public notice was given that 
Key. John Truair would lecture, on Simday afternoon, 
on the subject of -slavery, at a school house in Lodi, 
now a portion of the city of Syracuse. Mr. Truair 
was a worthy minister, and a powerful and eloquent 
debater.* Several prominent members of Mr. Ad- 
ams' Church were attracted to this meetmg, to hear 
the lecture of Mr. Truair. The venerable Doctor 
Adams, who prudently avoided the mention of sla- 
very in the pulpit, and who thought it not right 
either to attend " an anti-slavery lecture, or give no- 
tice thereof on the Sabbath, was deeply grieved at 
this supposed delinquency of those members, and 
made it the topic of severe censure the subsequent 

The offending anti-slavery men, in consequence of 
this resistance of their minister to the holiest desires 
of their hearts, began to be sensitive to a separating 
point between themselves and him, and those of his 
Church and congregation who, with him, cleaved to 
slavery as it was. They contrasted the cold sermon 
with the warm lecture, and the staid Doctor with the 
brave, enthusiastic and eloquent Truair. They began 
to feel that religion was a principle to be lived, and 
not an organization to be sustained, and therefore 
felt their attachment weakening as to the latter, and 

•Father of the Merors, Truain, of the Ddttf Journal office in Sjraeaie, 


B62 «r« w. Loat;i^. 

stxengthening as to the former. The growing breach 
between the AboKtionists and anti- Abolitionists grew 
more distinct, from the fact that their minister (Mr* 
Adams,) would consent to a protracted meeting of the 
Church, only on condition that their favorite revival 
minister, Mr. Ayery-*-who was also an Abolitionist 
should not be the preacher thereat, and that Mr, Ad* 
ams should select a minister for the occasion. The 
AboHtionists of the Church were revivalists, and vain* 
ly supposed that a protracted religious meeting would 
inflate minister and people with vital religion, to wit, 
the love of God and the neighbor— all that was need- 
ed to give freedom to the slave. 

A plan was now seriously considered by the Abof^ 
litionists to part from Mr. Adams and his Church 
and congregation, and form an anti-slavery Church 
and congregation upon the basis of the broadest be* 
nevolence* A subscription paper was accordingly 
drafted and circulated among the people by S. H* 
Mann, Esq* ; and such sums Were contributed, that 
they immediately organii^ed a congregatictaal Society, 
and built a meeting house, and hired Mr. Avery for 
their minister* This Society and hotise were the ral* 
lying point of reform for the city and county, and for 
the State also, Until the county and State became 
largely saturated with their sympathies. 

So soon as this Society was formed, anti*slavery 
in Syracuse assumed an independent position and or- 
ganization* It was a living embodiment of freedom, 
and opened its bosom to the charities of Heaven, and 
Felt its arms strong by the divine influx— and fearleai 

THE waeLfirAN chdrch. 863 

of parties and politicians^ of calculating ministers and 
a consummated Church, put its hand to every good 

But thcPresbyterian was not the only Church dis» 
turbed by the new emotion of righteousness AJOl 
the Churches were more or less shaken by it. The 
Episcopal Methodists became largely receptive of it, 
and many of its members shrank from the infected 
body, so soon as their eyes opened to its companion- 
ship with this horrible crime. Such were the num- 
ber and character of the seceders, that they formed a 
Society by themselves, tmder the pastorate of the 
Eev. Luther Lee, built themselves a church, and be- 
came an important link in the cordon of "Wesleyan 
Churches in this country, Mr. Lee was an Aj ax in 
debate, a fervent Christian, and of course an ardent 
Abolitionist. He soon formed around him a perma- 
nent and efficient Methodist anti-slavery power, which 
attracted the good and brave Methodists to co-operate 
with the Congregationalists in breasting the war 
against freedom, by the popular religious and politi- 
cal parties of Syracuse.* 

The excitement in the city affected not the city 
alone. It pervaded the county, and precipitated' a 
change of sentiment among those who sustained 

*It is a pity all Methodists bad not taken grfonnd with the Wesleyans, But the 
little Spartan band of Wesleyana, to their honor be it aaid, were all who were then 
willinff to stand beside God and the slave* They left the great body to the soourgea 
of diviae Providence for theh* fault in this matter. The evils that Skvery has 
Wrought in Its vitals now bum intensely, and its cold ffranlte body i0 oracking with 
pro'SUivery heaU Honorable efforts are being niade in it, and in other great reli* 
frious bodies in this country, to reform them in this regard. But we never expect 
to see the Methodist Ghuroh, or Baptist, or any other Church, reformed.' No 
Church ever was reformed. The order of Providence and Heaven is, that they per* 
form their uses and perish. Like men, they begin in infancy, pass into maturity^ 
old a^ and death* When God is done with them^ he lajrs them aside as a worn 

864 J. w. LoauxN. 

slavery as it was. Fradent politicians and Gbiistiaitt^ 
and all thinking men, were obliged to look respect- 
fiilly at this anti-slavery power — entrenched, as it 
was, in its eternal truths and growing combinations, • 
and to submit its claims to their reason and tinder^ 

It is not surprising that such men as John Wilkin- 
son, T. T. Davis, and V. W. Smitii, Esquires, even- 
tually changed their views and positions, and came 
into conjunction with the almost universal sentiment 
of the city and country, in opposition to slavery. 
The strangeness is, that Judge Pratt, (and we name 
him because we have heretofore named him in con^ 
nection with Wilkinson, and Davis, and Smith,) or 
any other person of any pretension to sense and in* 
tegrity, could be found in Syracuse to retain their 
original hostility to universal freedom. It is only- 
explainable by the fact that God invariably executes 
his righteous intents by antagonizing human agen- 
cies, and that thus the devils are instrumental of di- 
vine uses. II 

One more fact in this connection, wiU close the 
chapter of causes which dethroned the pro-slavery 
sentiment of Syracuse, and enthroned the opposite 

In the month of September, 1839, J. Davenport, 

out garment, there to remain^ until the day of tmirenal charity consumes thean. 
Koa& nor Moses, nor OfariHt. nor his Apostles, were reformers. They announeea 
the end and poRttive incureableness of a past a^ or dispensation, and the opening 
of a new one, which was but the resarreotion of the old one in a drAs suited to 
the uses of the futurc^white the forms or shells of the past remain, as the Jewidi 
and first christian Churches remain to kindle the fires of the mUlenial conflagra- 
tion. Th^ garments of the Lord are the opinions of the age in refari to him— and 
when those opinions cease to be avaiLible for his uses— when they oeaseto be rital- 
iced by charity, m at the time of Noah, and of Christ, and at th« prMenttlaw, 
'< as a Teflture will he ehanxe them, and they shall be onaDfed.'* 


of Mississippi, accompanied with his wife and child, 
and another white lady, arrived, with much show of 
importance, in Syracuse, and took lodgings at the 
Syracuse House — ^then, and still, a Hotel celebrated 
for its palatial accommodations. We called this fe- • 
naale companion " another white lady," because noth- 
ing in her complexion, dress, or deportment, and 
ijothing in the treatment of her that was publicly 
seen, designated her as one of the abject race. She 
was about twenty-four years of age, white complex- 
ion, straight brown hair, black eyes and full and 
beautiftil proportions. Citizens and strangers, caught 
by her personal attractions, turned to look at her 
a» they passed, and never suspected she could be a 
slave. When she appeared in the coach or on the 
side- walk, with Mr. and Mrs. Davenport, she was as 
richly dressed as her mistress, and seemingly entitled 
to equal civility and respect. 

They occupied the moa> expensive accommoda- 
tioas, dressed and rode in the most costly and impose 
mg fashion, and niade a great sensation upon upper- 
te^dom in Syracuse. It was soon learned by the 
servants,, and communicated to outsiders, that this 
beautiftil soutiiem girl was a slave— the property of 
Mr. Ds^venport. The fact that a woman so white and 
attractive was held as property, awakened curiosity 
and indignation among some who had no objection to 
black slavery — ^though many wealthy and fashionable 
citizens looked upon the case as a beautiful thing, 
and spoke of it as a sample of the elegance and bliss 
of Southern life. 

866 J. w. LoauBK. 

Two citizens, William M. Clark and John Owen, 
having learned that this young lady felt keenly the 
restraints of slavery, and that rich dresses, and ex- 
pensive baubles in her ears, and on her fingers and 
bosom, were no compensation for liberty, signified to 
her through the colored servants of the hotel, that if 
she dared, they would put her into Canada, and she 
should be fi'ee. She consented, and a plan was con- 
cocted by Mr. Clark, Owen, and those servants, to 
put her out of the reach of her master. But the tei> 
rible consequence of a failure excited her fears, and 
fihe revoked the agreement. Upon being reassured 
by the white and black men alike, that they would 
not fail, and that they would do their part so well 
that defeat was impossible, she again entered into the 

Harriet's — ^that was the name of the white slave — 
courage now revived, and she committed herself to 
the enterprize, A reconsideratipn of the matter sat- 
isfied her that, for her, the terrible consequences of 
slavery could not be aggravated, and that there was 
no hope for her but in freedom. She was aware her 
master had been importuned to sell her for $2500, for 
the worst of purposes, and she knew he had no con- 
scientious scruples to deter him from yielding to the 
base intents of the purchaser. 

Mr. Davenport now fixed the day of his departure 
to Mississippi. A single day intervened — ^the even- 
ing of which was spent at a select party at Major 
Cook's, as a sort of closing fete of the Syracuse 
feshionables to their southern friends. Harriet was 


at the party to take charge of the babe, and at a cer- 
tain hour of the evening — ^which had been settled as 
the hour for her escape — she passed through the as- 
sembly, very naturally, and placed the babe in its 
mother's lap, and told her she wished to step out 
The mother took the child without suspicion, and the 
beautiful white slave disappeared from her sight for- 

Not daring to hire a horse and carriage in the city, 
Messrs. Clark and Owen went into the neighboring 
town of De Witt, and employed a Mr. Nottingham, 
a former in said town, to be at the comer of the Park 
at the head of Onondaga street, to receive the girl at 
the time agreed on ; while another carriage, furnish- 
ed by the colored men at the Syracuse House, was 
to be at Major Cook's to receive the fugitive, and 
take her to Mr, Nottingham. 

Harriet was bare* headed when she got into the 
carriage, and it was cold — ^but the servants anticipa- 
ted her necessitiea, and one put a hat on her head, 
and another gave her his overcoat— both intended to 
disguise her, and at the same time keep her comforta- 
ble. They then rode to the Syracuse House, and 
received her clothing from the window, and inmiedi- 
ately deposited her with Mr. Nottingham, at the 
Park — ^and before Mr. Davenport suspected her, she 
was flying rapidly to the house of Mr. Sheppard, in 
Marcellus — ^where Mr. Nottingham deposited his 
charge, safely and comfortably, the same night. 

An observing citizen of Syracuse, in the year of 
our Lord one thousand eight hundred and fifty-nine, 

868 J. w. liOGUSH. 

who had not lived through ita intervenmg hiaixnyj 
could by no means imagme the explosion this ajGEair , 
produced in the dty. The rage of the man Dav^ir 
port, so soon as the escape was known, was beyond 
bounds — ^and political and sectarian snobs, officialB, 
and citizens, joined these mad ones in a chorus of in- 
dignation. Every man and horse was put in requisi- 
tion to find the beautiful Harriet, who had so mily 
and foolishly fled from happiness and duty. No 
afficted King or Queen ever had more, or more gen* 
nine sympathizers among their subjects, than had Mf. 
and Mrs. Davenport on that occasion. 

The "tide of feeling took two directions — we to" 
find the track of the girl, and hunt her down and re- 
plunge her into slavery ; and the other to hunt oat 
the villain3 who dared to put their abolition in prac- 
tice in Syracuse, and subject them to the terrible p^i- 
alties of slave laws. But it was vain. The white 
and black men managed this enterprise so prudently 
and bravely, that, no trace of the one or the other 
could be scented by the blood hounds. It was es- 
pecially provoking to the .anti- Abolitionists, that the 
spoil was plucked out of the mouths of the spoilers^ 
while they were in the act of demonstrating thdr 
contempt of the Abolitionists — and that, too, in the 
presence of the Southerners, whose opinion of their 
strength, and of the impotence of the Abolitionists^ 
they supposed they were establishing. 

No crime was ever committied in Syracuse that ex- 
cited so much blustering and active indignation as 
this. Expresses were sent to Oswego and in other di- 


lectioiu^ to head and capture the iiigitive. The out- 
lage was published through the press, then decidedly 
on the side of slavery ; and the enraged slave-holder is- 
sued a circular, describing the person of Harriet, her 
ornaments and dresses, and oifering a reward of $200 
to whoever would return her to him, and $100 to 
any one who would inform of her whereabouts, that 
she might be captured. 

The friends of liberty quietly but firmly pursued 
their course, notwithstanding the threats of their nu- 
merous and powerfiil opponents — who appeared be- 
fore magistrates, and searched their houses, and dis- 
turbed their wives and children, to find the beautiful 

Harriet had enjoyed her asylum but a short time, 
ere her saviors learned that Davenport & Co., by 
ineans of some treachery not yet explained, were in- 
formed of her whereabouts. Happily, this informa- 
tion was given late at night, and the anti- Abolition- 
ists determined early next morning to take and return 
her to slavery. Her hberators, however, were in- 
formed of the treachery the" same night, and sent an 
express and took her from Mr. Shepard, and carried 
her to Lebanon, Madison county, and concealed her 
with a friend. 

The next morning, the agents of Davenport & Co. 
arrived at Mr. Shepard^s and demanded Harriet— -not 
doubting she was in the house. Mr. Shepard made 
very strange of the matter, and so conducted that the 
agents, after searching the house, left for Syracuse — 
cursing the traitors, as they charged, who had hum- 

870 J. W. LOGUEN. 

bugged ttem. The result was as it should be — the 
informer lost all credit for truth and honor, by all 
parties, — and what was worse than that in his esteem, 
he lost the one hundred dollars bribe which Daven- 
port offered to quiet his conscience if he would assist 
in re-enslaving Harriet. 

In ijfie progress of these events, the case became 
known to Hon. Gerrit Smith, of Peterboro — ^who, 
since 1834, had lost his respect for the colonization 
scheme, and found in the abolition movement a chan- 
nel for his benevolence, genius, eloquence and wealth. 
Mr. Smith expressed a desire that Harriet be brought 
to him at Peterboro, and promised she should be pro-* 
tected. She was accordingly taken to Mr. Smith, 
and tenderly and carefiilly secreted and comforted by 
him and his not less devoted and generous wife. 
Harriet staid with Mr. Smith's family several weeks, 
ere he supplied her with clothing and money, and 
sent her to Canada. There she afterwards became 
married to an excellent citizen, nearly as white as 
herself When Mr. Clarke visited her a few years 
after her escape, he found her a happy wife and mo- 
ther, with a husband much respected for his well re- 
warded industry and good character. To his ques- 
tion, whether she would not be restored to her mis- 
tress in as good a state as when she left her, she re- 
plied she would haye both her arms torn from her 
body before she would be a slave. 

The brave men who set free this beautiftil slave, 
never boasted of their success — ^nor did they think it 
prudent, in the time of it, to gratify the aching curi- 


osity eyen of their friends, by telling them how, or 
by whom, it was done. Nor were the facts known, 
until Time, the barometer which indicates the states 
of the SQul and of public opinion, showed the infamy 
of the transaction clean rubbed out, and the names 
of William M. Clark and John Owen upon a clear 
and beautifdl passage of history * 

Such struggles with the social, political and reli- 
gious powers of Syracuse, wrought largely upon 
public sentiment The Abolitionists were few in 
number, but mighty through the great truths which 
attract th^ elements of power, to wit, love and wis- 
•dom — ^which, united, perform the uses of humanily, 
and without which, the masses fall into all the forms 
of antagonizing self-hood. 


Such was the state of Ijiings at Syracuse in 1841, 
when Mr. Loguen came to reside there. He found 
the colored people comparatively uncared for. He 
felt that his mission was to them, and by the license 
of Elder Chester became their preacher — ^and gather- 

*We have taken much pains to learn the names of the colored operators in this 
case without avail, which we much r^ret, because we wished to put them on the 
record. Wilhout ihem, Harriet would hare continued a slave— and becaoae, aoon 
after, Davenport became a bankrupt, if living, she would doubtlens now be the 
cast off vfclaxn of a 8oath«m Harem. 

Q^ th/^ (duIdxeQ ojxi youth into a sch<>ol, ood taoght 
tij^eia to xead| and write and cipher. 

1^ controversy between tho Abolitipnists and 
9jntl;A^)o]jHionis^ was now &st bringing them mV> 
^ola^ and they were becoming objectSK of iiegard by 
g9od and humane men and women. No man receiy- 
ed Mr. Loguen with more cordiality than, the vener- 
able Doct. Adams, who offered to take him i^to his 
oiijvn house and fiunily, in aid of his ^oirte to, unp^oye 
1^ colored people. But Mr. Loguen asked nothing 
fbi:, himself He drew his owu mon^^y ii:oxa. the bank, 
a^d^ bought him a house and lot, and became, and 
haj^ 9Wtijiued) a fre^old^ and tax paying citi;2;en. 
"B^ estate irose in value iA his haiids^ aAd by indusk: 
try and care, his early i^yestmeftts. i?gi,g4/e. Ijdia not 
rich, but in good credit. We speak of his property 
to show that it is the growth of his hard earnings 
the first six years of his freedom, and not contribu- 
tions to his anti-Slavery lectures. 

At this time, the colored people had a small house 
for worship inclosed, but not finished. But their 
minds were on the lowest natural plane, and un- 
prepared for the simple truths of religion, much 
1^ to appreciate the high claims and profound truths 
of the Bible. Deprived of social and mental culture, 
^y formed a suburban girdle of moral and intellec- 
tual' darkness about the city. He hired a lot of Mr. 
Hoyty near the Park, and opened a school for the 
children, and taught them to read and write. At the 
ejf.^ of the term, he had a public exhibition at the 
Gongregational Church, which was honored by a 


large attendance of white and ooloied people. The 
church was ornamented with evergreens, and their 
compositions and speeches were highly complimented 
by their hearers. 

He next h^red a room of Mr. Dunbar, in Salina 
street, bnt because it was too small, he set about 
building a new house near the old Baptist church, ia 
dhurch street. Having enclosed the building, the 
people were so enraged at the project, that he moved 
it with oxen near McKinstry's Candle Factory, and 
kept a school in it the following winter, and had an 
esiiibition as before. The house was again removed, 
aoid now stands on the tannery premises formerly of 
Bates & Williams, now tiie property of W. H. Van 

The third year of his residence at Syracuse, he 
went into the southern counties to raise "ftinds to fin- 
ish the church building. At this time the slavery 
, agitation had stirred the minds and passions of the 
people into a tempest, and the subject was mingling 
fiercely with the politics of the day. He made his 
first antirslavery speech, on this tour, to a large audi- 
ence, in Prattsbnrg, Steuben county, at the request of 
Eevd'Sfc Judson and Adson, active abolition minis- 
ters, who invited him to preach and lecture. Elder 
Bowley was accidentally present, and so delighted 
was he, that he introduced him to the people of Batii, 
and procured him a settiement oven a gonall congrega- 
tion of white and colored people, with whom he la- 
bored three years — ^preaching Sundays and teaching 
wieek days. Before being^ mstalied, h» attended the 

874 J. W. LOGUKN. 

Annual Conference of the African M. E. Chnrcli, and 
was licensed as an Elder. 

In the Fall of '44, Mr. Loguen's second year at 
Bath, the anti-slavery tempest broke into a rage, and 
the friends of Mr. Clay, and Polk, and Bimey, can- 
didates for the Presidency, had their orators of every 
grade in the field, attituding them to the breeze. In 
the midst of the excitement, Mr. Loguen visited the 
counties of Tompkins and Cortland, to raise ftmds to 
finish the church at Bath. On this circuit he met 
with circumstances that opened to him a new field — 
placed him in companionship with men of refinement,, 
education and manliness, and secured to him a con- 
spicuous and honorable position before the country. 
Until then he had made a single speech on slavery, 
and his public life had been limited to preaching and 
teaching. But now the spark fell amid the combus- 
tible elements of his soul, and kindled the fiures 
which controlled him ever afterwards. 

On a glorious Sunday morning, the latter part of 
September of this year, after the people had assem- 
bled in the churches, two gentlemen ^were seated in 
an office in Cortland village, the Capitol of Cortland 
county, and in view of the Presidential election, were 
mourning over the adulteration and debasement of 
the Churches as mighty obstacles in the way of free- 
dom and Heaven, and mingling their sympathies for 
the Liberty Party, to them the only visible index of 
humanity arid religion. No sound was heard save 
the heavy foot-fitll of a stranger upon the solitary 
Bide walks, and the notes of the birds in the artificial 


forest that covered them. The gentlemen were mem- 
bers of the Presbyterian Church, of which Eev. H. 
Dimham was pastor — ^but that Church had passed 
under the dominion of partizans — ^the cold breath of 
the South had bitten it, and its seared glories, like the 
glories of autumn, were passing away. 

"I have no heart to go to meeting," said one of 

"Neither have I," said the other. "But O, if the 
Churches of the country were God's Churches, instead 
of man's, how quickly would this slave question be 
settled !" 

"And who wants to go to meeting to hear a 
preachment about truths and doctrines, whoxi all that 
is needed, and all that God demands, is a living char- 

" True enough. It is not doctrines, however true, 
nor love, however pure, nor both united, however 
closely, that makes the christian. But it is truth and 
love united in act, in life, that perfects christian salva- 
tion. Hoarded manna breeds worms and becomes a 
curse. It is daily bread for daily use we need. The 
sheep on Christ's right hand represented those who 
were in the good of love — ^but not on account of that 
good were they beckoned into the kingdom, -but be- 
cause they lived the goodness in charitable deeds to 
God and the neighbor. The goats on Christ's left 
hand, too, represent, in the same ancient language, 
those who were in the truths of faith' without the 
deeds of charity, and they were left to the consump- 
tion of their own infernal fires — ^not because they did 

&76 J. W. LoauBN. 

not embrace truth, and preach and pray it, but be- 
cause they did not live it in good to the neighbor. 
Religion is life, because it is love. It is man's whep. 
it is done — ^not when it is knowi;i and acknowledged, 
and undone." 

" Who is^that fine looking colored man walking all 
alone on the side-walk ?" 

" Sure enough I He is a stranger — ^may be a fugi- 
tive slave. Let us go and see him." 

" You seem to be a stranger," said one of the gen- 
tlemen, approachiag him. " Can we be of service to 

"I thank you, gentlemen. My name ia J. W. 
Loguen, aud am a stranger here. I want to make an 
appeal to these rich churches for a small sum to fin- 
ish our house at Bath. I have been to see all the 
ministers, and they were not willing to give me a 

" Do you ever talk on slavery ?" 

" I can talk on slavery." 

"Were you ever a slave?" 

^ Yes, sir — ^twenty years a slave in Tennessee.*' 

." J£ we wiU get you a hearing in two of these 
churches^ will you address tii^n all on slavery at five 
o'clock r 

" Tes, sir," 

The gentlemen seated Mr. Loguen in the Presby* 
teriaa church, and after the service^ Mr. Dunham 
stated his case and introduced liim to tKe congrega- 
tion. He then made his appeal, and received a hand* 
B^p oqiiiia^teMaan* In tha aft^siooa he visited ajid 

• loqubn's pbayeb. 87T 

addressed the Baptist Chnrcli with like sucoess. Hay- 
iDg made a fine impression, and the largest notice 
being given at all the meetings, the Baptist house 
was filled to overflowing at five o'clock, to hear him 
on slavery. The people were qui vive on this sub- 
ject, and a fugitive slave speaker was a- person of 
great interest. 

Mr. Loguen did not enter the pulpit, but fell upon 
his knees before the altar and the people, and poured 
out the passion of hi^ soul for the redemption of the 
slave. He thanked the Divine Mercy that led hinn 
from the house of bondage, and prayed the same 
mercy to open the way for all his peqple. He did 
not ask God to smite his enemies, if it was cpnsistent 
with his goodness otherwise to deliver them ; but if 
his poor countrymen could not be delivered without 
blood, then he prayed God to strike quickly. ♦* How • 
long shall my poor brethren suflfer? Smite, God, 
if smite thou must, and let them out of the hands of 
their tormentors I Have pity on us. How long shall 
our little children be torn from their parents, and our 
innocent sisters and daughter? and mothers be given . 
to pollution ? 1 give me my mother I Thou know- 
est how she is robbed of her children, and flayed 
and tortured because she grieves for them. My little 
brother and sister on one occasion, and my beautiftil 
sister Maria on another, torn from her, and driven, 
screamiug, away, by cruel men, who lashed her body 
and covered it with her dear blood, because she 
struggled and prayed for her childrenl" 

No prayer ^var mj^ in Ckxrtland melted the peo- 

378 J. W. LOGUEN. 

pie like that. It is impossible to describe it. Suffice 
it' to say, there was not, probably, a dry- eye in the 
great assembly when it ended. Look which way you 
might, all were in. tears. 

When he rose from his knees and wiped the water 
from his brow, he stood a moment conftised, as if he 
had forgotten his audience while he talked with God. 
He adjusted his face and form as if he had come sud- 
denly into a new presence, and then commenced his 
speech in the timid language of a child. He apolo- 
gized for his lack of education and habit of speaking 
on any subject. He had but once before spoken on 
slavery, and 4ihe only qualification he had, he said, 
was his practical acquaintance with it. He wanted to 
do justice to it, for it was the burden of his soul. 
He then proceeded to detail the . features of this 
^ terrible despotism as he had felt them and seen them 
stamped on others. The souls of his hearers were 
put upon the raxjk, and their passions burned like fire 
under his unpretending but harrowing eloquence. 
When he had them fiirly in his hands, he charged 
them — " Vote this hated monster quietly to death, or 
its fangs will drive deep in the bosoms of your chil- 
dren. It is the law of divine retribution. You can 
not allow that monster to tear out our eyes and pre- 
serve your own intact. You may not allow it to 
atupify and demoralize our masters, without feeling a 
corresponding stupor and demoralization yourselves. 
I tell you the evil is past endurance — ^the Justice of 
God cannot endure it. Heaven's gathering vengeance 
waits your decision to-day — ^my poor oppressed coun- 


trymen are charged with it to- the brim. Do you ask 
if I will fight ? Ah ! do you suppose a war upon 
God and humanity can be carried on from one side 
alone ? Yes, I'll fight, if fight I must. We were 
never made to have God's image ground out of our 
hearts without resistauQe. If our rights are withheld 
any longer, then come war — ^let blood flow without 
measure — ^until our rights are acknowledged or we 
perished from the earth. White men fight — ^all men 
fight for their freedom, and we are men and will 
fight for ours. Nothing can stop the current of blood 
but justice to our poor people 1" 

The above is a poor specimen of some of his 
thoughts on that occasion. 

Thfe liberty men of Cortland were so delighted 
with this specimen of Loguen, that they set him on 
the stump for Mr. Bimey, in opposition to Clay and < 
Polk. Appointments were made for him to speak at 
the principal places in the county, and he filled them 
with ability and success. In this circuit, his soul be- 
came so absorbed with his theme, as to divorce him, 
in a measure, from the pulpit, and to set him beside 
the slave in a life-long war for liberty; and he has 
continued a public speaker in his behalf ever since. 
The liberty voters of Cortland county this same year 
increased to between six and seven hundred, and 
credited Mr. Loguen for his agency in producing the 

So soon as the campaign of '44 was over, John 
Thomas, then of Cortland, persuaded Mr. Loguen 
that it was his duty to enter the field as an anti*sla* 

880 J. w. LoauBN. 

very lecturer, and gave him a letter to Hon. Q-errit 
Smith, commending him for that service. • Mr. Smith 
entertained him over night, and wrote Mr. Thomaa, 
saying, in substance, "What a man you sent me I 
I invited him to pray in my fiimUy, and he prayed 
ao feelingly for his mother that he set us all in 

About this time his term at Bath expired, and he 
accepted a temporary caU fix)m the colored people at 
Ithaca to be their minister — where he labored two 
years, and did important service. During this time, 
so numerous and importunate were his caUs to lec- 
ture on Slavery, that he determined to put himself in 
a position to answer them without interfering with 
other obligations. Accordingly, he dissolved his con- 
nection at Ithaca, and returned to his property and' 
. friends at Syracuse, and preached to the A&ican 
Church there, when not called elsewhere to talk on 
fdavery. From that tinae forward, his life has been 
a series of incessant activities, for the freedom of his 
fiunily and race. 


The citissens of Cortland were so pleased with Mr. 
Loguen, and so overcome by his love for his mother, 
thikt %h^j determined to purchase her and give her to 


him, and employed John Thomas *to negotiate with 
Manasseth -Logue to that end.. Mr. Thomas opened 
a coiTefi5)ondence with him, and concluded a bargaiti 
for Cherry at the price of $250. The sum was rais- 
ed by subscription, and Nathaniel Goodwin, then of 
Cortland village, now. of Albany, took a letter of 
Attorney from Mr. Thomas, and went to Tennessee 
to pay it and bring her on. 

Mr. Goodwin arrived at Columbia in the evening, 
and finding that Manasseth lived about eleven miles 
cfffj and that he could ride there only- on horse-back, 
slept till morning, and then went to the livery for a 

" You are a stranger, I believe, sir ?" said the liv- 
ery man. 

• "Yes, sir — I am from New York. This is the 
first time I have seen Tennessee." 

" I knew you was a yankee at first sight. I guess 
you are after that old slave woman, but you won't 
get her." 

" Pray, how came you to know my business?" 

• "Manasseth brought all Thomas' letters to me. 
The matter has made talk here. It is believed Jarm 
has a finger in the pie, and I advise you to be still as 
possible, for the abolitionists have made us very sus- 
ceptible,^and a spark will set us all an fire." 

Goodwin mounted his horse, and trotted through a 
half cultivated country, until he came to a cluster of 
mean log houses. The center one was Manasseth's 
dwelling, and the surrounding ones were for his cat- 
tle and slaves. He rode up to the house and " hal- 

882 i. w. LoatJEKi 

looed " in the unoeremoniotis stjle of the cotintry^ 
A decriped and bloated old man appeared, and claim* 
ed to be Manasseth Logue, and invited him in. 

"My name is Nathaniel Goodwin, of Cortland Co., 
N. Y. I am here as the agent of Mr» Thomas, to 
pay for a slave woman he bought of you, and to take 
her away." 

Manasseth admitted the contract, but was inquisi- 
tive to know whether it was made for Jarm's benefit* 
Goodwin admitted that it was. He was advised by 
his brother and others, at Loilisville, that in case en- 
quiry was made about Jarm, to state the facts firank*' 
ly. They judged, anJ judged truly, that the facts 
were strongly suspected at Columbia, and any at- 
tempt to conceal them would probably lead him into 
difficulty. Manasseth told Goodwin that he would 
be glad to take the money, and let Cherry go^— but 
the rule of slave-holders was "that they shall not sell 
a slave to a slave " — and the people of Columbia were 
so certain the contract was for Jarm's benefit, that they 
would not let her go until Jarm had bought himself. 

Goodwin then t9ld him that Jarm would nevet 
buy himself. 

" Then I shall go and take him ; he is my property.'* 

" You can no more take him and make him a slave, 
than you can the Governor of New York. , He is a 
man of property-^a preacher of the Gospel, and lov- 
ed and respected the country over.'*. 

Manasseth and Goodwin altercated this point until 
after dinner ; then the former enquired of Goodwill 
If he wished to see Cherry. Having an affirmative 


answer, he sent for her* In a short time an aged 
colored woman entered the room, dressed in a single 
coarse garment, which covered her from her neck to 
near her ankles — ^leaving her head arid feet bare. She 
appeared to be about sixty years of age, stout and 
healthy, for a woman so old—- though her slow and 
heavy foot'fall and bent neck, told of age and hard- 
fihip. Manasseth left her alone with Mr. Goodwin* 

" Is your name Cherry ?^* 

" Yes, master." 

" Did you ever have a son you called Jarm ?*' 


Her Countenance lost its vacancy, and she turned 
her eyes with obvious intent on Mr. Goodwin* 

"Should you like to hear from Jarm?" 

" Yes, master-*— but he died long ago/' 

" Should you like to be free and live with him ?'' 

" O yes, master." 

By this time her attention was fixed intensely on 
'Mr. Goodwin. 

" Jarm is not dead — ^I came from him a few days 
since. His friends sent me to buy you and take you 
to him. He wants to make you free and have yott 
live with him." 

The dew gathered plentifdUy on her eye lashes, 
and her frame was struggling with strong and deep 

" 0, I should like to see Jarm and live with him. 
He must come here and live with me — ^master will 
never let me go and live with him." 

« O no— he Can't come here— he will be a slave if 

. 884 J. W. LOQUEN. 

he comes here. Besides, he is a preacher, and owns 
houses and property, and is very much known and 
loved by everybody aU around the country* More 
than that, he has a wife and children, and he would 
not be willing to bring them here." 

" How does Jarm's wife look ? — ^how I should like 
to see her ! Is Jarm's wife a slave ?" 

" no — ^there are no slaves where Jarm lives." 
In the midst of this conversation. Cherry's daugh- 
ter Ann came into the Eoom. She was the property 
of a neighboring planter, and had been informed that 
a man had come from New York to purchase her 
mother and take her to her lost brother, and she was 
perinitted to come and see the stranger, and hear from 
him and talk about him. It was this daughter that, in 
the opinion of Manasseth, fastened the heart of Cher- 
ry to Murray county. She was the only child not 
sold out of the country, 

" Go, mother — ^by all means go with the man, and 
live with Jarm and be free— and one of these days 
I'll get away and come and live with you," said the 
animated and stout young woman, whose appearance 
testified her relationship to Jarm. 

Here the sister and mother entered into minute en- 
quiry of Jarm's looks, his age, the looks and ages of 
his wife and children. His property and condition, 
his intelligence, wisdom and influence, seemed not to 
interest them — ^but any personal peculiarity they 
sought to treasure in their memory, to hang theii 
hearts on.. His mother did say once, "It is jui^t 


like Jarm to preach." The interview was a luxuiy 
to Goodwin— he felt the heart of Loguen stirring in 
his bosom, awakening emotions of tenderness and 
love. , But he was obliged to close it. Accordingjy, 
he dismissed them, assuring them that he -vy^ould ob- 
tain Cherry if he could, and take her to her sqn. 
When he took them by the hand to dismiss them, 
they wept together — and supposing they might have 
no fiirther interview with him, they piled their sepa- 
rate messages to Jarm upon his memory. 

"You have concluded not to part with Cherry 
then ?" said Mr. Goodwin to Manasseth. 

"I could not, if I would, until Jarm purchased 

" That Jarm will never do, I am persuaded — and 
our business, of course, is ended. I came here on- an 
errand — ^I have finished it, and must return to Colum- 
bia to-night." 

Ma^asseth urged Goodwin to spend the night, but 
he peremptorily declined ; and about two o'clock in 
the afternoon, started on Tiis return. But Manas^eth, 
unwilling to part with him, and still hoping he might 
yet get Jarm, or get his value, walked a mile or two 
by the side of Mr. Goodwin's horse, and two or three 
over-grown sons with him — a]l the while urging 
Goodwin to persuade Jarm to buy his freedom. 
Finding they could get no consolation from Good- 
win, they separated. 

Mr. Goodwin returned hi^ horse to the* owner at 
Columbia, who congratulated himself upon the truth 
of his prophesy, and then took the stage to Nashville, 

883 J. w. LoatriCK. 

where he arrived about sunset. After supper, the 
landlord invited his guests to go to meeting with him, 
and hear Bishop Soule 'give the abolitionists fits.^ It 
fieems the Annual Methodist Conference of Tetmessee 
was to conclude a long session that night, with a ser* 
|non from the far famed Bishop — and the landlord 
inferred that he would smite the abolitionists, of 
course. Mr. Goodwin being an abolitionist died in 
the wool — ^though he regarded the Bishop as a down* 
right Atheist, yielded to the proposition— being curi* 
ous to see and hear the man who was breaking the 
Church to pieces by his fanatical adhesion to the sum 
of villanies. 

The congregation was large, and the sermon prosy, 
in the style of pro-slavery northern preaching — ^with* 
out a bit of the lite which the devil-element of sla* 
Very would give it. The only characteristic feature 
of the case was, that the white people filled the base* 
Client, and the galleries Were draped with blafek peo* 
pie ; and when the venerable Bishop* finished his tsUik 
to the whites, he lifted his eyes up to the black circle 
around his head, and said, very solemnly :— 

"And now, my dear colored children, let me say 
one word to you. Be good children — ^be obedient to 
your masters and mistresses for the Lord^s sake, . and 
keep your minds and hearts intent on your Heavenly 
Master, who has ordered your condition in the world, 
and by*and-by you will die and go with us to the 
white man*s Heaven." • 



When Mr. Goodwin returned and told Loguen he 
could not have his mother until he owned himself he 
was deeply grieved and indignant. He felt wronged 
and insulted by the proposition. The result of this 
effort set him to the extreme of hatred against slavery. 
His whole time and talents and passions were giv- 
en to war with it. Where there *was excitement, 
there he was to infliime it — where there was none, 
there he was to sot the fire blazing. He was in the 
spirit on the Lord's day and every day. Scarce a 
Sabbath has passed biu he stood bi^fore a large con- 
gregation in some part of the countvy to electrify the 
people with his spirit. 

Mr. Loguen was stationed at Syracuse in '46, and 
remained there to '48, when he was made presiding 
Elder for one year, and appointed to preach in the 
city of Troy. He went to Troy in the spring of 
1850, and continued there until the fugitive slave 
act— which was passed the 7th and approved the 18th 
Sept., 1850 — when he was advised by his friends, and 
urged by his wife, to leave his charge and return to 
Syracuse. He was more exposed than any fugitive 
in America to be seized under it>— for the reason that 
he had published himself on the stump and in the 
pulpit and the papers, all over the North, as a defiant 

888 iT. w. toaufij^, 

fugitive from slavery. Not to attempt to re-enslave 
him, was an admission that the Government dare not 
test the strength of the law in such a case ; or that 
the claimant and oflSicers dare not trust their persons 
in the attempt. 

Mr. Loguen arrived at Syracuse the day before the 
Citizen's Convention to consider the fugitive act, to 
wit, the 3d day of October, 1850. That convention^ 
so important in its consequences anfl results, deserves 
a brief notice. The act had been published in the 
Liberty Party Paper, and trtmsferred to the Whig 
Journal. It had also been noticed in the Demo- 
cratic Standard, the leading dailies in the city. The 
latter papers disapproved it indeed, but spoke of it 
with the prudence of mere partizans — ^while the Liber- 
ty Party Paper assailed it with fervent indignation, 
and attempted, by stirring appeals, to induce the peo- 
ple to forget their parties in positive resistance to it; 
and yet the people were as unrufiSed as a summer's 

In this state of things, Thomas Q-. White, of Ged- 
des, an unambitious, plain man, came to the editor -of 
the Liberty Party Paper, and said, with more than 
usual earnestess: 

"I know the people of Syracuse won't stand this, 
when they come tO understand it." 

" But how will you make them understand it?" 

" I will get up a large convention to discuss the 
subject — and I want you to sit down and write a call" 
for such a meeting on the spot. I will circulate it 
among the Whigs and Democrats, and we will have 


such a meeting as has never before been in Syracuse." 
Whereupon the liberty party editor wrote the fol- 
lowing call and gave it to Mr. White : 

" The citizens of Syracuse and its vicinity, without 
respect to party, are requested to meet in the City 
Hall, on Friday evening, the — ^th day of September 
inst., at* early candlelighting, to make an expression 
of their sense of the act of the present Congress, gen- 
erally known as the fugitive slave law, but entitled, 
* A bill to amei# an act entitled an act respecting 
fugitives from justice and persons escaping from their 

" Dated September 26, 1850." 

Mr. White took this circular into the street, and 
presented it to the first man of anti-slavery sympa- 
thies he met, who was not an abolitionist — ^but not 
until he had invited several to sign it, and was tiumed 
ofiF, did he find one willing to head the list, and that 
man was George L. Maynard, Esq., now Sheriff of the 
county. Some said they had not read the act — oth- 
ers were unwilling to lead in a meagre of that kind, 
and others wanted to consult political friends — ^for 
they wotdd do nothing to discompose the order of 
parties. Having obtained Mr. Maynard's signature, 
he had less difficulty to get the sixteen or seventeen 
other names to the paper — ^many of whom were 
prominent free soilers and abolitionists. Having these 
few names, Mr. White printed the call in the Whig 
and Democratic dailies of the city ; and afterwards 
caused the .time to be altered to the 4th day of Octo- 
ber. This expedient of Mr. White started the people 
fsom their slumbers, disengaged them from dema- 

890 J. W. LOGUBN. 


gogues, and kindled the flames, wliicli, afterwards, 
consumed party cords like cob-webs, and swept the 
country with a conflagration which was spiritual and 

When Mr. White and his friends left the city to 
attend a State Convention at Oswego, the 2d day of 
October, it was doubtftd whether the people would 
be sufficiently aroused to the subject. But when 
they returned, they rejoiced to fin^hat 0. A. Whea- 
ton had acquainted himself with the startling provis- 
ions of this iaw, and had Mr. White's call printed in 
a large hand bill, and posted and circulated in all 
parts of the city, and that the public passions be- 
gun to blaze. In addition to this, as we said before, 
Mr. Loguen made his appearance in the city on the 
8d, isind passed around among the citizens the next 
day like a moving fixe brand. Many of his friends 
joined his wife to urge him to retire to Canada for 
tiie present — ^but he deferred a conclusion on that 
subject until the^mceting. 

The people of Syracuse and vicinity, on the even- 
ing of the 4th, filled the City Hall to overflowing, and 
Alfred H. Hovey, Esq., then Mayor, was led to the 
chair, and the following Vice Prssidents chosen, to 
wit. : Hon. E. W. iJieavenworth, Hon. Horace Whea- 
ton, John Woodruff, Oliver Teall, Eobert Gere, Hon. 
Lyman Kingsley, Hiram Putnam, and Dr. Lyman 
Clary ; and Vivus W. Smith and L. J. Gilbert were 
appointed Secretaries. 

So soon as the meeting was organized, the impa- 
tient audience called long and loud for Samuel E. 


loguek's speech. 391 

Ward, a distinguished blaek orator, who made a 
most stirring speech, which was greatly applauded. 

Mr. Loguen was then called on, and took the 
stand. He looked over the great assembly, and said : 

" He was a slave ; he knew the dangers he was ex- 
losed to. Pe had made up his mind as to the course 
6 was to take. On that score he needed no counsel, 
nor did the colored citizens generally. They had ta- 
ken their stand — they would not be taken back to 
slavery. K to shoot down their assailants should 
forfeit 'their lives, such result was the least of the 
evil. They will have their liberties or die in their 
defence. What is life to me if I am to be a slave in 
Tennessee ? Mv neighbors I I have lived with you 
many years, and you know me. My home is here, 
and my children were bom here. I am bound to 
Syracuse by pecuniary interests, and social and fami- 
Iv bonds. 'And do you think I can be taken away 
from you and from my wife and children, and be a 
slave in Tennessee ? Has the President and his Sec- 
retary sent this enactment up here, to you, Mr. 
Chairman, to enforce on me in Syracuse ? — and will 
you obey him ? Did I think so meanly of you — did 
I suppose the people of Syracuse, strong as they are 
in numbers and love of liberty — or'did I believe their 
love of liberty was so selfish, unmanly and unchris- 
tian — did I believe them so sunken and servile and 
degraded as to remain at their homes and labors, or, 
with none of that spirit which smites a tyrant down, 
to surround a United States Marshal to see me torn 
from my home and family, and hurled back to bond- 
age — I say did I think so meanly of you, I could 
never come to live with you. ISot should I have 
stopped, on my return from Troy, twenty-four hours 
since, but to take my family and moveables to a 
neighborhood which would take fire, and arms, too, 
to resist the least attempt to execute this diobolical 

802 X #. liOGuUir. 

law among them. Some' kind and good friends ad- 
vise me to quit my country, and stay in Canada, 
until this tempest is passed. I doubt not the sincerity 
of such counsellors. But my conviction is strong, 
that their advice comes from a lack of knowledge of 
themselves and the case in hand. I believe that their 
own bosoms are charged to the brim with qualities 
that will smite to the earth the villains who mav in- 
terfere to enslave any man in Syracuse. I apprehend 
the advice is suggested by the perturbation of the 
moment, and not by the tranquil spirit that rules 
above the storm, in the eternal home of truth and 
wisdom. Therefore have I hesitated to adopt this 
advice, at least until I have the opinion of this meet- 
ing. Those friends have not canvassed this subject. 
I have. They are called suddenly to look at it. I 
have looked at it steadily, calmly, resolutely, and at 
length defiantly, for a long time. I tell you the peo- 
ple of Sytacuse and of the whole North must meet 
this tyranny and crush it by. force, or be crushed by 
it. This hellish enactment has precipitated the con- 
clusion that white men must live in dishonorable sub- 
mission, and colored men be slaves, or they must 
give their physical as well as intellectual powers to 
the defence of human rights. The time has oome to 
change the tones of -eubmission into tones of defiance, 
— and to tell Mr. Fillmore and Mr. Webster, if they 
propose to execute this measure upon us, to send on 
their' blood-hounds. Mr. President, long ago I was 
beset by. over prudent and good men and women to 
purchase my freedom. Nay, I was frequently impor- 
tuned to consent that they purchase it, and present it 
as an evidence of their partiality to my person and, 
character. Generous and kind as those friends were, 
my heart recoiled from the proposal. I owe my free- 
dom to the God who made me, and who stirred me 
to claim it against all other beings in God's universe. 
I will not, nor will I consent^ that any body else shall 

loguen's speech. S9S 

countenance tlie claims of a vulgar despot to my soul 
and body. Were I in chains, and did these kind 
people come to buy me out of prison, I would ac- 
knowledge the boon with inexpressible thankfiilness. 
But I fed no chains, and am in no prison. I received 
my jfreedom from Heaven, and wim it came the com- 
mand to defend my title to it I have long since re- 
solved to do nothing and suffer nothing that can, in 
any way, imply that I am indebted to any power but 
the Almighty for my manhood and personahty. 

Now, you are assembled here, the strength of this 
city is here to express their sense of this fugitive act, 
and to proclaim to the cjespots at Washington wheth- 
er it shaU be enforced here — whether you will permit 
the government to return me and other fugitives who 
have sought an asylum among you, to the Hell of 
slavery. The question is with you. If you will give 
us up, say so, and we will shake the dust from our 
feet and leave you. But we believe better things. 
We know you are taken by surprize. The immensi- 
ty of this meeting testifies to the general consterna- 
tion that has brought it together, necessarily, precipi- 
tately, to decide the most stirring question that can 
be presented, to wit, whether, the government having 
transgressed " constitutional and natural limits, you 
will bravely resist its aggressions, and tell its soulless 
agents that no slave-holder shall make your city and 
county a hunting field for slaves. 

" "Whatever may be your decision, my ground is ta- 
ken. I have declared it everywhere. It is known 
over the State and out of the State — over the line in 
the North, and over the line in the South. I don't 
]5^spect this law — I don't fear it — I won't obey it ! It 
outlaws me, and I outlaw it, and the men wjio at- 
tempt to enforce it on me. I place the governmental 
officials on the ground that mey place me. * I will 
not live a slave, and if force is employed to re-enslave 
me, 1 shall make, preparations to meet the crisis as 

391 J. W. LOGUEK. 

"Becomes a man. If you will stand by me — and I be- 
lieve you will do it, for your freedom and bonor are in- 
volved as well as mine — it requires no microscope to 
see that — I say if you will stand with us in resistance 
to this measure, you will be the saviours of your 
country. Your decision to-night in favor of resis- 
tance will give vent to the spirit of liberty, and it 
will break the bands of party, and shout for joy all 
over the North. Your example only is needed to be 
the type of popular action in Auburn, and Eoches- 
ter, and Utica, and Buffalo, and all the West, and 
eventually in the Atlantic cities. Heaven knows that 
this act of noble daring will break out somewhere — 
and may God grant that Syracuse be the honored 
spot, whence it shall send an earthquake voice through 
the land 1" 

The words of a strong and brave man in the hour 
of peril fell like coals of fire on human hearts. The 
people knew Mr. Loguen and loved him. They 
knew he was a slave, and trembled for him. They 
listened with keen sympathy and breathless attention 
to his brief speech. They knew it was no occasion 
for Buncomb for any body, and least of* all for him. 
His manliness and courage in a most trying crisis 
electrified them. He uncapped the volcano, and op- 
pressed sympathy broke forth in a tempest of ap- 

By" this time every seat and aisle and nook and 
comer of the room was filled to the utmost, and the 
cry arose from all parts of the excited multitude : * 

"The chair! the chair!" 

The great audience now forgot they were parti- 
zans, and remembered that they were men. They 
were drawn together by the enthusiasm of a great^ 


idea, and that idea was stirring, defiant, revolutionary 
and sublime. . Except with a few, that idea was un- 
uttered and unknown to each other. 

The Mayor made a short but spirited and signifi* 
cant speech. He said, among other things : 

" The colored man must be protected — ^he must be 
secure amonff us. Come what wiL of political organ- 
izations, ana fall where I may, 1 am with you. I 
hope I may never be called to obey this law. But 
should the alternative come, I shall — ^weil, — ^I hope I 
shall obey, law — (unboimded applause]>— let us act 
deliberately. We are right—this is a righteous and 
holy cause." (He sat down amid loud and repeated 

The Business Committee now reported resolutions 
and address to the people. The resolutions read by 
Mr. Sedgwick denounced the fugitive slave law — ^for 
that it purposely exposed the persons of citizens to 
the last and worst of outrages, and at the same time 
deprived them of all legal and constitutional protec- 
tion, the triM by jury, habeas corpus, the right of 
appeal, and the privilege of counsel— for that it was 
charged by a diabolical spirit, and marked by a cruel 
ingenuity, offensive alike to white and black men — 
assailing, as it did, the law^ of nature and of God — 
they therefore declared it null and void, and called 
on the people everywhere "to oppose all attempts 
to enforce it." They denounced Daniel Webster as 
responsible for the act, and President Fillmore for ap- 
proving it, and recommended a Vigilance Committee 
of thirteen, to see that "no person is deprived of his 
liberty without due process of law." The Add^psB, 

396 J. W. LOQUBN. 

read by Mr. Wheaton, embodied the same sentiments, 
and urged the people, in obedience to God, to " arise 
in their majesty " and set the act at defiance. 

The resolutions and address effectrually set free the 
tempest, and it burst forth from the great assembly in 
the loudest demonstrations. The sense and spirit of 
the meeting was no longer doubtftd. Stirring address- 
es were made by Mr. Sedgwiclc^ Mr. Eaymond and Mr. 
May ; and after the Chair announced the Vigilance 
Committee, the meeting adjoume-d to Friday even- 
ing, the 12th October, 1850. 

The names of the Vigilance Committee thus an- 
nounced were C. A. Wheatcm/ Lyman Clary, V. W. 
Smith, 0. B. Sedgwick, H. Putnam, B. W. Leven- 
worth, Abner Bates, George Barnes, P. H. Agan, J. 
W. Loguen, John Wilkinson, E. E. Eaymond and 
John Thomas. 

Yfith one exception, there was perfect harmony in 
this meeting. As it was drawing to a close, in the 
midst- of its deep tod burning enthusiasm, J. H. 
Brand, Esq., a young Democratic lawyer, took the 
stand, uncalled, and opposed the resolutions and ad- 
dress, and cautioned the meeting against hasty action. 
He believed the fiigitive law to be constitutional and 
yalid, and declared, if called upon, he would aid in 
its execution. The audience instinctively hissed their 
disapprobation, but immediately hushed by compas- 
sion and pity, and extreme regret that there was a 
youtii in the city willing to set sail in. life to the visa- 
b|g iin&)py of such a statute. The young man sat 



down amid the universal sorrowwhicli an expressivx) 
silence declared for him. 

During the week between this meeting and the 
next, popular feeling swelled and iatensified, and the 
pimps of power — ^for there were a few such — ^had lit- 
tle opportunity to find their affinities amid the resist- 
less whirl of popular passions. They were silent, or 
spoke cautiously in the face of the tempest. At an 
early hour on the 12th October, the City Hall was 
again filled, and a large surplus tide of men were set 
back to talk the matter over in the public rooms, or 
at their homes. It was the most astounding and stir- 
ring coming together that ever occurred in Syracuse. 

The meeting was addressed by William H. Bur- 
leigh, Judge 'Nye, C. B. Sedgwick, Eev. Samuel J. 
May, Eev. E. E. Eaymond, Mr. .Titus, and J. W. 
Loguen. If it was large in nupabers, it was larger in 
its spirit and power. 

All that was combustable iq free, enlightened, and 
generous humanity, was already ignited, and the 
breath of the orators fanned the flame, until it wrapt 
the city in a general and inextinguishable conflagra- 
tion, which cleansed the public mind of all fear<)f 
federal power, and revealed in the inmost heart of 
the county, its living principle — ^to wit, "No man 
shall be taken from Syracuse a slave, and no power 
shall force the fiigitive slave law upon it." 

We conclude the chapter by briefly saying, that 
the friends of the administration followed the above 
meetings by another of their stamp ; and B. D. Nox- 
on, a venerable counsellor, was their chairman^ and 

398 ' J. W. LOGUEN. 


Major Burnet, and others, were Vice Presidents. 
But this counter Convention proved a failure, and its 
officers deserted it. Hon. Daniel Webster also yisit- 
ed the city, and addressed the people, and told them 
that their proposed resistance of the law was treason. 
"These men," said he in his speech, "had better 
look to their language and actions, for the law may- 
be enforced. The fugitive slave law will be executed 
in all the large cities. It will he executed in this city^ 
at the time of holding the next Anti-Slavery Convention^ 
if a case arise." 


The 1st of October, '51, is a memorable day in Sy- 
racuse. " The next anti-Slavery Convention " after 
Mr. Webster's speech, was then and there held, and , 
the city was thrown into consternation by an J^ttempt 
to execute the slave law. About noon, C. A. Whea- 
ton came into the Liberty Party State Convention, 
and announced that a man was arrested as a slave in 
the city, and that he was at the office of U. S. Com- 
missioner Sabine. A vote was instantly taken to ad- 
journ to Sabine's office, and assemble again when the 
slave was delivered. 

The Coxmty Agricultural Fair had attracted to the 
city people of substance and respectability from 
abroad in great numbers — ^the Convention was nu- 


raerously represented — ^the Judges of the Court were 
holding one of their terms, attended by lawyers and 
litigants — and the politicians far and near were in the 
crowd. The best opportunity, therefore, existed, to 
help the government suppress an attempt to rescue 
the slave, if the people would do it. It is said that 
the agent, Eev. James Lear, of Missouri, had been 
in town days before that time, and at the instance 
of the Marshal, waited this general gathering as fa- 
vorable to their aims — ^that they expected sympathy 
and assistance from it ; or they expected to perfect a 
victory over rebelUon, which should be to the great-' 
est extent comprehensive and impressive.* An ama- 
zing error was leading them into a blaze of light in 
legard to the pride and courage, spirit and integrity 
of Syracuse. It needed this additional spark to the 
• iron flask to explode the powder within, and scorch 
and scatter and blacken ^ the government and its 

The members of the Liberty Party Convention, 
probably to a man, walked quickly to the office of 
Commissioner Sabin. K such a convention usually 
exhibit a collection of marked &ces, the exhibit may 
be supposed to be then eminently striking. Their 
procession was a signal of alarm to the throng 
through which they passed — stopping only as they 
met a friend to explain themselves, and plant a kin- 
dred feeling. The young and active led the way — 
the strong and middle aged followed with elevated 
brow and firm tread — age-stiJBfened limbs, brought 
up the rear — ^and the faces of all, relieved of every 

40Q • J. W. LOGUEN. 

m ♦ 

shadow that would obscure the brilliancy of their in- 
dignation, were attracted to the chained slave in tho 
Commissioner's office. 

In the meantime, William L. Crandall, an intelli- 
gent, impulsive and chivalric citizen, hastened to the 
Presbyterian church, and vigorously tolled the bell — 
and instantly every bell in the city (the Episcopalian 
excepted) sounded the tocsin of liberty. The ama- 
zing mass of citizens, men and women, friends and 
enemies also, in a very short time had their minds on 
the poor mulatto — ^who, until then, was undistinguish- 
ed, but was destined henceforth to be the subject of 
the most sublime and beautiful passage in the histoiy 
of freedom. 

The Court room of Mr. Sabin, and the stairs lead- 
ing to it, were rapidly wedged with the bodies of the 
conventionists, in whose face^the slave read unmis- 
takeable trust, courage and rescue. The appearance 
of the, triplicate band of iJfarshals and their armed 
posse, about the large, bold-browed and handcuffed 
slave, wsis not less unique than that of the determin- 
ed spirits that surrounded and assured theni, that 
their safety lay in the respect or fear of the masees 
for the law and its penalties. They were armed — 
but the mighty mass before them might cover and 
crush them in spite of revolvers. The abolitionists 
were taken by surprise, and with the prudeace of 
wise men, took time to think. 

So soon as Mr. Wheaton gave the above notice, he 
proceeded to the Court House, and retained counsel 
for the slave — ^while the Hpn. Gerrit Smith and the 


Hon. Leonard Gibbs took seats by his side as his vol- 
untary defenders. 

^'I am Gerrit Smith — ^your friend," whispered Mr. 
Smith. '* I shall defend you at any expense, and 
leave no stone tmtumed to secure your freedom." 

" You ain't Gerrit Smith, are you ?" 

" Yes — ^and I mean you shall have the best coun- 
sel, and to stand by you with my fortune." 

The countenance of Jerry brightened. What ftigi- 
tive slave, if he has been in the country a short time, 
has not heard of Gerrit Smith ? or sitting by his side^ 
is not inspired by the aura that surrounds him? 

Jerry was a cooper by trade, and was actually on 
his seat at work when he was seized. He was alone, 
the other workmen having gone to their meals. His 
back being towards the kidnappers, they seized him 
from behind and threw him on the floor, and ironed 
" him, before he had time to resist, under the cowardly 
pretence that they had d warrant against him for 
theft. And not until he was set before the Commiss- 
ioner was he aware of the cause of his arrest. Then 
the agent, Lear, approached him, smiling, with a — 

" How do you do, Jerry ?" 

The truth flashed on Jerry's mind with aU its in- 
tensity and hon^or; but he suffered not a muscle to 
change the expression of his face or body. He sat 
down like a chained tiger, amid armed ruffians more 
hatefiil than tigers, and to his eye more wicked than 

"Who is this Jerry?" said Mr. Loguen, as he 

402 J. W. LOQUBN. 

passed from the Hall and marclied rapidly to the 
Court Eoom. 

*' I knbw him. He is a short time from slavery, 
and has few acquaintances. He is stout and brave, 
and could ilf>t be taken without stratagem." 

"I see — ^there is concert in this villainy. They 
h&,d their mind on taking somebody, and have picked 
him. Why didn't they take me ? There are spies 
in the city speculating on our blood." 

" Yes. There are two policemen who would think 
it a fine thing to hunt up our history and bring our 
masters on us for a price — ^and it is not unlikely there 
are one or two yoxmg lawyers who would unite in 
the game." 

" But what are you going to do, surrounded, aff we 
are,»by snares and^scoxmdrels?" 

" I shall stay and defy them." 

" Here we are, at the office — ^the first*ones. Shall 
w.e go in? How do we know they will not grab 

"Let them grab. Now is the time to try the 
spunk of white men. I want to see whether they 
have courage only to make speeches and resolutions 
when there is no danger. Let us be here at night- 
fall, and if white men won't fight, let fugitives and 
black men smite down Marshals and Commissioner — 
any body who holds Jerry — and rescue him or per- 

They then went up the stairs together, and showed 
themselves boldly in the presence of the Court, the 
Marshal, and his armed retainers. The mass crowded 


.up behind- them and shoved them in their very faces. 
Such was their position when Messrs. Smith and 
Gibbs took seats by Jerry, and the following addi- 
tional colloquy was ha)i between him and Mr. Smith : 

" I believe," said Jerry, " if I should throw my- 
self upon this crowd, they would help me to escape, 
— ^they look like friends." 

" They are friends," said Mr. Smith, " but not yet. 
I mean you shall escape — ^but not yet." 

In the mean time, Mr. Gibbs claimed that the pris* 
oner should not be bound when on trial, and raised 
other questions — all of which were overruled. The 
Commissioner said, however, that he had not power 
to order the shackles taken from Jerry, but .wished 
him unshackled, and advised the Marshal to release 
him, which he refused to do. The great crowd were 
anxious to release Jerry, but there was no concert 
among them. Each had determined he should not 
be taken away, but had not determined how to pre- 
vent it. The Court adjourned for dinner, but the ab- 
olitionists remained by Jerry without dinner. In 
the meantime, Jerry put the same question to one of 
them he put to Mr. Smith, and he, inconsiderately, ad- 
vised Jefry to throw himself on the crowd and es- 

Acting upon this hasty advice, Jerry, with eyes 
flashing fire, and the strength .and agility of a tiger, 
threw himself across the table, scattering papers and 
pistols. Marshal and constables, a^d lay upon the bo- 
som of the mtdtitude, who made joom for him, but 
closed upon the kidnappers., and effectually seiptixated 

404 ' J. W. LOGUBN. 

them from him ; and before the captors coiild folloi?*' 
him," he was flying through the ctowd in the street 
Then, a great multitude, friends and enemies alike, 
took up the chase in the utmost conftision — ^the form- 
er to assist Jerry and embarrass his pursuers, and the 
latter to retake him. 

Jerry ran as fast as he could with fetters on his 
hands; and doubtles it was owing to the fetters, 
which were both a mark and an embarrassment, that 
he was not covered by the crowd, and lost in the 
great surge of humanity around* him, whose voice at a 
distance was as the roar of the ocean. About half a 
mile from the starting point, a carriage was brought 
to take him off; but Peter Way and Eussell Lowel, 
city of&cers, got at him send prevented him from en- 
tering into it. Now the popular wave returned, and 
Way and Lowel, the assistant kidnappers, pressed a 
truckman into their service, and with other help, got 
Jerry into it, after a scuffle which left his body bare, 
arfd bleeding, with nothing to cover it but pantd;loons 
and a part of his shirt — and then one of them mount- 
ed the vehicle, and sitting on his body to keep it 
down, rode through the streets to the Commissioner's 

IhSignation had now risen to blood heat — ^though 
nothing was as yet done but to embarrass without 
striking the kidjjappers. Even then, had a blow 
been struck, the pent up passions of the multitude 
would have broken restraint, and by force of sympa- 
thy come into th^ order of desperate battle. 

" The devil's to pay 1" said Barry Allen to the 


Other Marshals who had been imported from Eoches- 
ter and Auburn, &c., to help do this infernal deed. 
Jt won't do to take him to Sabine's office. We'll 
take him to the Police office and shut him in the 
back 'room, and shackle his feet, too, and put a strong 
guard over him. Where is Charlie Woodruff, Green, 
Shuart, and the other boys?" 

'* Let me teU you the bullies won't be sufficient. 
We must have the militia. You may have the mili- 
tia to help execute the laws." 

" I'll call the militia — ^but I begin to fear ,we chose 
the wrong day for this business." 

" It is a blunder. These feUows show more spunk 
than I looked for. It is a pretty business if the Gov- 
ernment must fell back before them. We shall be 
disgraced, and the fugitive law be dead'in Western 
New York. Here is Charlie Woodruff, the Greens, 
Morrow, Welch, Forman, Lowel and Way, &c. We 
can guard the prisoner in the back room — ^but if 
there is a general rising, our only safety is in the mi- 

Poor Jerry, nake^ and bleeding, with fetters on 
both hands and feet, was hustled into the back room 
and put under the guard of the above persons ; ,and 
Marshal Allen hurried after Sheriff Gardiner, and 
commanded him in the name of the United States to 
bring the militia to his aid. The Sheriff, mistaking 
his duty as an officer and citizen, instantly" called up- 
on Capt. Prendergast, and ordered him to the assis- 
tance of the Marshal. Captv Prendergast was an Irish 
Militia Captain of the' sham democratic stamp, who, 

406 i. w. iiOQUE^r. 

with many of his countrymen, are fooled into the l)e- 
lief that to be free themselves they must make slaves 
of other poor people. 

Things did not now look to the Marshal as at first. 
Then he was in high glee. . He met Mr. Wheaton in 
the street, and with triumphant face, and a voice half 
jocose and all insulting, said : 

" Now is your chance, Wheaton I I have got a 
slave here in Sabine's office* I give you notice that 
you may not say I stole the march of you." 

Poor man ! He thought all was safe then. Now, 
he is looking with dismay and terror to bring Capt. 
Prendergast and the militia, secretly and rapidly as 
possible, to the Police office for his own safety. How 
ignorant was he of the spirit of the youth of Syra- 
cuse I "Wheaton instantly went to the Captain, and 
asked if he hafl been called to bring the citizen sol- 
diers to the aid of the Marshal. 

" Yes," he said, "I am commanded to bring out 
my company to keep the peace." 

Mr. Wheaton warned him that keeping the peace 
was a diflferent thing from hunting slaves — that the 
Sheriff was the officer of the State, and the State 
knew nobody as a slave. If the Sheriff put his hand 
on a man as a slave, he committed a breach of the 
peace of the worst kind, by the laws of the State. 
Slave-catchers must do their devil's work without the 
aid of the State. 

This call for the militia caused a general murmur, 
of indignation in the city, which reached the ears of 


Col. Origen Vandenburgh, and he hastened to Preii- 
dergast and asked : 

. " Is it true you have ordered the Jnilitia to inter* 
fere in this slave case ?" 

" Yes — Sheriff Gardiner calls upon me to bring 
them to keep the peace.^' 

" Then I countermand the order/* saM the Colonel* 
" If the States, with their Marshals and army, can't 
take a slave from so peaceable a city as this, they are 
in bad business. Anyhow, my soldiers shall not vol- 
untarily help them, for no better reason than the cow 
ardice of the officials trembling before the outrage 
they are committing. My soldiers shall never be 
kidnappers with my consent." 

This act of Col. Vandenburgh was soon known 
through the city, and greatly applauded* But the 
slave-catchers were indignant at the interference of 
Wheaton and Vandenburgh, and the Marshals and 
serviles who had Jerry in charge, were disappointed 
and dismayed. 

In this stage of the case, to form a nucleus of pop* 
ular action, Thomas G. White invited a few brave 
spirits into the counting room of Abner Bates, to set- 
tle upon some plan of action for rescuing Jerry* 
They met, and adjourned to meet at Dr. Hiram 
Hoyt's office at early candlelight, and to bring with 
them as many good and true and -brave spirits as 
they could vouch for. 

Very early in the evening, the following persons 
appeared at Hoyt's office, viz,:--Doct. Hiram Hoyt, 
i)oct. James Fidler, Doct, E. W. Pease, Gerrit Smith, 

408 J. W. LOGUEK. 

Samuel J. May, John Thomas, Charles A. Wheaton, 
Samuel E. Ward, Jarmain W. Loguen, Samuel 
Thomas, (Cazenovia,) Linneus P. Noble, (Fayette- 
ville,) Washington Stickney, (Oanestota,) William L 
Crandall, E. E. Eaymond, Caleb Davis, Montgomery 
Merrick, Abner Bates, James Davis, J. M. Clapp, C. 
C. Foot, (Michigan,) James Bake;*, Jason S. Hoyt, 
Edward K. Hunt, George Carter, Peter Holinbeck, 
James Parsons, Lemuel Field, William Gray. 

It is not certain that the above list is perfect — ^nor 
is it easy to make it so. It is quite probable a few 
other persons were at this meeting who are not nam- 
ed. For though judges were appointed, and each in- 
dividual presented^ to such judges vouchers for their 
honor and reliability, and their names were written 
down, the writing was prudently destroyed, that it 
be not a possible evidence of so-caUed treason or 
conspiracy. It was thought politic to keep in the 
' dark, to escape legal persecution. And now some <5f 
these brave men have left the country, and others, 
with the victim Jerry, have gone to their last account. 

When each had proved his title to a place in this 
Congress of freedom, they gave an emphatic opinion 
that Jerry must be taken from his captors* and set 
free, and that Syracuse should not be disgraced by his 
taking off, be the consequences what they might 
Some said that Mr. Sabine wpuld deny the claim, be- 
cause the evidence would fail to establish it But if 
such were known to be the result, they could not be 
deterred from releasing him by forc^. The opinion 


of Gerrit Smith on that subject was enthusiastically 

"It is not unlikely," said Mr. Smith, **that the 
Commissioner will release Jerry if the examination 
is suffered to proceed — ^but the moral effect of such 
acquittal will be as nothing, to a bold and fbrceible 
rescue. A force ible rescue will demonstrate the 
strength of public opinion against the possible legal- 
ity of slavery, and this fugitive law in particular. It 
will honor Syracuse, and be a powerful example eve- 

The possibility that the opportunity might pass to 
strike a blow which would be a lesson to the dough 
faces of the North and the blind men at the Soutli, 
instead of deterring, precipitated determination, and 
nerved these men to strike quickly, and in a manner 
to give the blow the greatest possible effect in all di- 
rections. It was the only treatment the law deserved. 

While this meeting was in session, the liberators 
had agents at the Court room, to watch the kidnap- 
pers. Ira H. Cobb and Eev. L. D. Mansfield kept 
their places in the Police office, to know that Jerry 
was safe, and to give information if an attempt was 
made to put him beyond the reach of the people, who 
were assembled in large numbers before the office, 
with a manifest anxiety to fall in with any attempt at 
rescue. As the darkness increased, the assemblage 
increased. It was estimated that not less than 2500 or 
8000 persons had assembled, ready to obey the hand 
which, by an overt act, should tap the tempest witili- 

in them. 


410 S. W. LMtJllK. 

'To hold this toge mass of citizens at the office, till* 
til the session disbanded and gathered into it, the res- 
cuers at the Doctor's office deputed Samuel E. Ward 
and 0. b* Foot of Michigan, distinguished anti-slavery 
oratorSj to take the platform before the Police office^ 
and "hold the multitude by their address and elo* 
quence, until the liberators arrived. Gallantly and 
bravely did Messrs. Ward and Foot execute theii* 
commissioti.''* By turns, their loud and clear voices 
tolled through the moist twilight Until night set in. 
They were heard distinctly at the Empire and Syra- 
cuse houses, and the passers in the streets caught the 
sound, and reminded of the imprisoned slave, merged 
into the black mass at the police office. Those who 
dare not trust themselves near, lest they be implicated 
' — ^the leaders of parties, as well as openly committed 
partizans of slavery, and all cowards, gathered into 
groups at safe distances, to see if the people had cour- 
age to set Jerry free, as they had resolved in their 
conventions they would free any slave thus arrested. 
When the rescuers entered the crowd from Hoyt^s 
office, about eight o'clock in the evening, the great 

♦The following Incident has been furnished the Edlter :— -When Mr, l^'oot bad 
finished bis speech, Rev.iJ. R. Johnson commenced speakintc^ from the window in 
the third loft. The Sheriff ran up stairs to him, and commanded — " Stop speak^ 
Ing , or I will arrest you !" '* I have donej" said Mr. Johnson. *' but as you coov 
faiand me to stop, I shall beirfn again, to test the liberty of speech.'* Addressing 
the audience, he said, " The Sheriff commands me to stop^o yon sav I shtSi 
Utop?" *'Nol Go on-'-go on I" said a hundred voices. Here Mr. V. W. Smith 
interfered, and kindly requested him to stop^^for that he feared the crowd would 
break throufth the floor of the Journal offlee. Whereupon Mr. Johnson turned to 
the Sheriff snd said — '* Mind you^ I stop at the request of Mr, Smith>«4iot fiom a 
regard to vour order." *' What is your name ?'* resolutely demanded the Sherllfi 
"Joseph ft* Johnson," Tlie Sheriff booked it» " What is your residence ?\ •* 8y. 
Kcuse, Gertrude street. No. 28," " You shaU be remetabered," said tbe Sbeiu^ 
"The next time we vote, you, too, will be remembered," cried out Doct. Potter, 
*pi9 Sheriff immediately returned to Mr, Johnson, and took hiu on6 side, and Mid 
in a soft voice, " t am a pnbli« officer, and mast keep Ibe Mae^**^ btdiiid MM 


square was fiUing with the women of Syracuse, who 
took stands out of the reach of danger, to see the 
battle which they prayed would sel the bondman 
free, though it periled the blood of their sons, broth- 
ers and husbands. 

The rescuers had been in the crowd some ten min- 
utes, before any demonstration was made. During 
that time, they were seen, some with clubs, and oth- 
ers with axes imder their overcoats, while others 
were arming themselves with rods of iron from a pile 
before Mr. "Wheaton's Hard Ware store. All this 
time the orators, well knowing the great idea with 
which the body they addressed was pregnant, and 
waiting painfully its ultimation, showered their in- 
flammatory eloquence on their brains. 

Finally, one of the rescuers, anxious for an overt 
act, and pained intensely by the delg^, cried out at 
the top of his voice from the crowd, " Bring him 
out I Bring him out 1" 

Soon after this call, a stone from the crowd dashed 
out a light of glass, and fell among the lawyers. Mar- 
shals, constables, serviles and Commissioner, to the 
peril of their bones. This was followed by another, 
and another, and the Commissioner hastily delivered 
Jerry to the Marshal, and adjourned the Court until 
morning, and escaped. 

. The niissiles now came thicker and faster — ^the as- 
sailants walked boldly to the windows and broke 
them in with clubs and axes — sash and glass together 
were dashed upon the floor within and the platform 
without. , 

412 J. W. LOQUEN. ^ 

When these initial acts were done, no shouts of 
the actors attended them. The air but gently mur- 
mured the approbation of the assembled city, as dis** 
tant thunder responds to lightning. It was hot the 
case of men moved by rum or party madness to des- 
troy property and rights and laws. It was the throes 
and agonies of good and great minds giving birth in 
nature to interior affections. Throes and agonies, 
pregnant more of bliss than pain, while ultimating in 
the outer world the sentiment which makes Heaven 
within — " thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself" — . 
a sentiment on which all happiness and all order de- 
pends. It was obedience to divine dictates that made 
their acts sublime, and left them on natural minds, 
the living symbols of great truths to be felt and lived, 
but not expressed. Fallen humanity has no letters or 
words to expjess sentiments so spiritual and exalted, 
as the delivery of a slave crushed by the weight of a 
great and guilty nation. None to describe the power 
of that sentiment, when it gives its representative to 
nature, and like the incarnate Deity, brings its etie- 
mies down. 

The assault on the window took the uninitiated 
by surprise, and for a moment the popular wave sub- 
sided to take a second thought ; but the act, inspir- 
ing as an angeVs tongue, electrified them with a com- 
mon impulse, and jdrew thqpa to a bolder position, 
whence, the love of freedom inflamed to madness, 
forced them into the midst of the war. Anaalgama- 
ted by a common sympathy, not a man retired, or 
wished to. 


Now the war went on in earnest, and the Police 
Justice and constables, smitten with consternation, 
circulated among the patriots, not daring to lay a 
hand 'on them. Harry Allen, the U. S. Marshal, pale 
with fear, borrowed an overcoat of another Marshal, 
and using it as a disguise, escaped through the crowd 
to the Syracuse House, and remained there. Eev. 
Mr. Lear, overcome by the same contagion, sneaked 
up stairs into the office of Doct. Hubbard, a highly 
respecffced citizen, who, in courtesy to Lear's demoora-' 
. cy, hid him in a hole and covered him out of sight, - 
untQ the* indignation passed by. 

Before the Eescuers left Doct. Hoyt's office, they 
talked of the manner the Police office should be en- 
tered — and it was thought best not to enter it until 
every window and door and particle of wood- work 
were demolished — ^not until even the--casings under 
the windows which came down to the platform on 
which the orators stood were destroyed, and the whole 
room was open to the assailants. 

When Marshal Allen retired, he delivered Jerry to 
Marshals Fitch and Swift, and they held him in the 
back room, with their retainers Woodruff, Green, 
Marrow, Shuart, and others, locked the door, and 
guarded him with clubs and pistols — whUe Ira H. 
Cobb, L. D. Mansfield, .and others, remained in the 
Police office. 

The sash and lights being broken in, the assailants 
now attacked the casements with axes and bars of 
iron — ^but so firm were the fixtures, that progress lag- 
ged behind their patience, and several strong men 

414 J. W. LOGUEN. 

went to a pile of hemlock plank near by, and took 
therefrom a board about ten feet long and four inches 
thick for a battering ram. As they approached, the 
crowd opened at the command of one of their num- 
ber, William L. Salmon, of Granby, Oswego county, 
a brave and true man, who called aloud : — 
" Open the way I — Old Oswego is coming I" 
By the application of this powerful instrumentality, 
the casements were soon stove in, and nothing re- 
mained to the rescuers but to enter and conquer the 
police, constables and rowdies, who were retained to 
guard the outer door of Jerry's prison. Th^ founda- 
tions of the city now seemed to be shaken, and all 
the men and women assembled. Clinton Square, on 
both sides of the canal, was dotted with hats and bon- 
nets. .It was a general coming together to witness 
the most daring and stirring event that had occurred 
on the continent. The excitement among them was 
intense, without tumult, and seemed to surround the 
two or three thousand actors at the Police office as a 
celestial guard, and stimulant of their manly and 
heroic qualities. 

The assailants now rushed through the apertures 
into the office, led by J. M. Clapp, Peter Holenbeck, 
James Davis, and others. The entrance from* without 
was nearly simultaneous to thq extinction of the lights 
within. At this moment, Messrs. Cobb and Man8« 
field, without concert with each other or the assail- 
ants, turned off the gas and left the room in dark- 
ness, mollified by the distant street lamps and the 
light of heavQU only. A momentary scuffle with the 


police concluded tte victory, and peace settled npop 
the dark court room. 

At this moment, driven to desperation and insane 
by fear, the besieged, more by instinct than predeter- 
mination, used their revolvers. The body of the 
besiegers -wtio were drawn Into the combat by irresis- 
table sympathy, were startled by the report of a 
pistol, aimed in the dark at Mr. Clapp and those who 
entered the office with him. . At the first report of 
the revolver, soon followed by a second, the original 
rescuers remained firm, while the great multitude 
without, as if surprised by a question of life or death, 
like two dark waves swayed in different directions — 
one part towards the bridge north of the steps, and 
the other to the south. 

These parting waves of men quickly halted a few 
feet only from the platform, and listened and looked 
with intense emotion for a groan or a corpse from 
among the sons of freedom, resulting from this at* 
tempt at murder. The immense mass that filled Clin- 
ton square heaved with like emotions, and gazed with 
an anxiety which cannot be expressed, for some mo- 
tion from which they could infer a fatal result. The 
suspense was awful, but it was temporary. At this 
moment Thomas Gr. White came out from among the 
rescuers, upon the platform, and said with a loud 
voice : — 

"Come up I — come up, gentlemen! They have 
fired all their powder I" 

The parted mass of men were now fired up to the 

416 J. W. LOGUBN 

blood point, and rushed to the rescue, determined to 
set Jerry free, come life or come death. 

The partition between the rescuers and the victim 
was a strong one, and the door was locked. In pur- 
suit of the plan thus far adopted, they determined 
ixot to enter the prison through the door, Vhere they 
might be shot down — ^but to enter it over the parti- 
tion betw;een them and their enemies, after they had 
broken it from its fastenings and tumbled it upon 
their heads. 

Now, again they siezed their huge plank and other 
weapons, and plied them against the partition, with a 
force that struck the besieged with consternation. 
Marshal' Fitch, now n^ui with desperation, again par- 
tiafly opened the door, and poiQted his pistol at one 
of the rescuers, and received a blow on his arm from 
a rod of iron, wielded^ by his intended victim, wjiich 
broke the bones, and the pistol and arm fell down to- 

Tte partition thus assailed was firmly buUt ; but 
the huge battering-ram, axes and iron bars soon loos- 
ened its fastenings. As it began to give way, the 
hearts of the Marshals and rowdies who were guard- 
ing Jerry also give way. They knew they must soon 
feice the men whose blood they had provoked to the 
point of mortal combat — ^and also, by -daring to defy 
• the United States and rescue Jerry, showed they in- 
tended to meet the consequences. Under such cir- 
cumstances, liarshal Fitch, distracted by pain and 
fear, leaped oitt of the north window of the room on- 
to the side of the canal, with his broken arm, and ee- 


cap^-— «©d Woodrofl^ Swift & Co., soiil-strickeii and 
trembling with a sense of danger to their persons, 
hastily opened the door and thrust Jerry into the 
arms of his friends — and by so doing prudently con- 
sulted their own safety.* 

Jerry was received at the 4oor by Peter Hollinbect 
and William Gray — ^both colored men, and the latter 
a fugitive slave. 

The huge hemlock was now dropped, the sound of 
axes and iron bars ceased, and raising the thrilling 
bondman, the rescuers, for the first time, uttered a 
shout of joy and triumph. The joy of the bond- 
man touched the hearts of the rescuers like a galvan- 
ic shock — the great heart of Syracuse assembled there 
felt it as a unit, and broke open with gladness, feint- 
ly expressing its quality and intensity. 

Possessed of thedav?, their black brother redeem- 
ed, his heart's blood repeating its pulsations of grati- 
tude and love upon their bosoms, they forgot thdr 
hatred of tyrants and detestation of wrong doers, in 
the sweet gushings of Heaven that trickled in their 

*So soon as fitch fired his pistol and closed the door, Peter Hollinbeck, a hoave 
and powerful colored man, hurled a hrick at the door in reply to the pistol. The 
nissue went throusch the door, and grazed and slightly wounded the head of Jerry. 
Smitten with terror, his keepers. Woodruff, Foreman, and others, covered them- 
selres with hozes, or crowded into the closet, to be out of harm's way — Cleaving 
Jerry helpless and exposed on the floor. Peeking his head fh)m under a box, as a 
turtle Bticks his head from under his shell, Woodruff cried out : — 

" I say, there I-^havnt we a right to let the prisqper go to save our lives " 

uYesl— yesi" 

" Hallo, Jerry I Go out there among those folks I— yon can quell this riot I—go 
right off 1" 

*' How can I go, with feet and hands ediackled ? Open the door and 1st fhem in, 
or take off my urons and let me do it, you coward I I am not a&aid of them — they 
are my friends.'' 
. " Go out 1— why the d ^1 don't you go V* 

" How can I go, I say ? Are you so cowardly crazy as not id know you hav* 
ehalRed me so I can't go ?" ■ ^ 

Breught to his senses by the brave Jerry, Woodruff,' quick aa lightning, optned 
the d«or aiyi. shoved J6n7 into it, and erepi back to hii snell again. 

418 . J. W. LOGUEN. 

bosoms, and 'filled their mouths with praises and 
. shouts of thankfulness — ^not like the expression of in- 
fernal delight from a rum-bom riot — ^not like the 
heartless explosion of a party triumph, or the sense- 
less demonstration of sectarian conquest or martial 
battle, indicative alike of starved and sunken spirits 
measuring the 'decay of churches and empires-^un- 
like any of these — ^the shouts of the multitude for 
the rescue of Jerry were the music of Heaven in the 
soul, celebrating the birth of a new era in politics and 
religion — the jubilee of the incarnation of a celestial 
sentiment, which, like the mountain stone seen, by 
the prophet, has grown and is to grow, imtil it fills 
the republic and gives liberty to the continent — until 
* liberty and religion come up to the level of that act, 
and read their conquests and their brotherhood in the 
" sea of glass" before them. 

When Jerry was received, his body was mostly 
na3£ed — ^being covered only by tattered pantaloons 
and shirt, which hung on him in rags — ^and what was 
worse, sadly pained by a wounded rib, and otherwise 
bruised by the harsh treatment of his captors. 

B&s powerful and heavy frame was perfectly help- 
less because of his shackles.. The rescuers tried to 
raise him on their shoulders, but could not. They 
then put their handia under him and carried him in 
thefr arms. When he arrived upon the platform, the 
joyous thousands clapped their hands and shouted : 

" There he comes I — ^there he comes I Hurrah I — 
hurrah I" 

At this time Clinton Square bristled with human 


heads. The Empire and Syracuse houses, and all 
other buildings from which the spectacle could be 
seen,* weie draped with anxious spectators of both 
sexes. Few families in the city were unrepresented 
among the thousands that saw Jerry descend the high 
platform — ^many being moved to tears at the scene, 
every item of which passed through their soulp and 
set them shouting and weeping and moving towards* 
Jerry, the point of attraction. Before him, behind 
him, and by his side, moved a mighty mass, which 
the Marshals, politicians and rowdies, in sympathy 
with the prosecution, might look at, but dare not 

Instead of taking Jerry out of the dty, the rescu- 
ers took him to the densest part of it, and set him 
down at the front door of the Syracuse House, in 
Salina Street, ^here the Judges of the Supreme 
Court and its officers, surrounded by fastidious politi- 
cians, were huddled together to look . at him. Though 
it is impossible to name all the persons who todfe part 
in carrying Jerry in this imperial procession, fifpecial 
notice is due one of them. 

When Jerry came down the steps, his head and 
one of his shoulders were delivered to Moses Sum- 
mers, one of the editors of the Daily Standard^ then 
the democratic organs of the city. Mr. Summers did 
not quit that position, but as after stated, until Jerry 

*It was a dear, star-light erening. We need no other thing to show how utterly 
unreliable were the witnesses for the United States in the suits against Beed, Brig- 
ham, Salmon, Cobb, and others, who were indicted for rescuing Jerry, than thwr 
testimony that the night was cloudy and dark. It seems, though the rescue was 
open and above board, their enemies were so excited and darkened by fear, that 
they could scarcely identify an opponent or Btat« a iact. 

4^ ?, wv t^oqnm.^ 

enteied tha oairiia^ that took him oC As the pior 
G68sipa w^ passing the Townse^d Block, it was as- 
^^l»ed by R L. Higgupfi, ono pf thp demgcratic Al- 
^^n^Ei^ of the city^ at the ppint whexe Summers was 
^],g9ged. 3wQ«mers instantly qi4t his hold, and laid 
ti^e pffioipas Alderman in ihi9 gutter, and again took 
1^ position. Hi^gins got up out of the dirt, and fol- 
l^infed, by ti^ side oif the proqession, and again step* 
ped in front of it and Qommanded the liberators to 
lay ^^rry down and obey the law& Full of the spirit 
of th^ occasipn, guxom^r^ gaye his place to Peter 
!^(eed, a colored man, and turned upon the meddling 
Alderman and knocked him down. This quieted th© 
officious Aldermap, and Summers returned tp his 
^lace ag^. 

From the door o| th^ Syracuse House Jerry wa* 

t^en and deposited at the Bail Koad Depot — but the 

ma^ wa^ 90 dense that the carriages to take him off 

cpuJtd not come to himi — ^and still the tumult was so 

y ^at that but few knew where Jerry was. 

When in prison, it was an object to collect the peo- 
ple — ^now it was important to disperse them, that he 
might find a place, unknown to his enemies, where 
his chains could be broken, and he could refresh his 
bruised fliud broken body with food, medicine and 
slubber. Several rescuers now ran in opposite direc- 
tions through, the crowd, crying " Fire I fire I fire I" 
This was a successful ruse de gicerre. The masses, 
wild with excitement, ran every way, crying " Fire f 
, flye 1 fire V* — some, doubtless, scenting the stfatagenj, 
and others &lling into it. 


In a short time Jerry was left alone with James 
Davis, Jason S. Hoyt, Moses Summers, and a few 
other braye and stalwart men, who lifted him, groan- 
ing with pain, into a carrirge, and he was taken, by a 
(drcuitous route, to a colored man's house in the east- 
em part of the city. A proposition to call at Doct. 
Hoyt's office and have his wounds tiressed, waa over- 
ruled in regard to prudence. As the carriage rolled 
away, the Liberators sent up a "Hurrah I" at the 
top of their voices, which drew up. the sympathizing 
voices of thousands in all directions, and the heavens 
vibrated with delight. 

Without delay, Jason S. Hoyt brought his cutting 
bar — B, powerfdl instrument — ^and cut Jerry's shackles 
apart, leaving each of his limbs &ee, but bruised and 
bleeding, and encumbered by the dissevered irons. 
Not daring to leave Jerry with the colored man, he 
was disguised in female attire, and led £rom house to 
?iouse among the colored people, who were willing to 
n ceive him, but who, nevertheless, those who had 
hii \ in charge, to wit, Jason S. Hoyt, James Davis, 
&C.J feared to trust, because of a possible lack of pru- 
dence or discretion. Therefore liiey led him to the 
house of Caleb Davis, on Genessee street — ^a man 
whose heart was big with the- love of liberty, and 
whose mind they knew to be charged with qualities 
fitting their purpose.* Mr. Davis opened hi^ door at. 
midnight to the rap of James Davis. 

*Mr. Davis vas fhen nearly sixty years of age. of powerful frime and robiut 
health He was in the army daring the -war with B&gland in 1812. and one of th» 
teaye-nien who raised the bridge at Flattsboig. Oomiiur to QUntpn BquKre on 
the aftornoon of the day of the rescue, and flndtttgit fullof people, andfhiijb i^ oatt 

422 J. W. LOGUEN. 

" We liave a man here wlio wants shelter under 
your roof." * 

" Are you pursued ?" 


Bring him in — ^it is too late to astqiiestions. It is 
needless to strike lights— take him up stairs and put 
him to bed. He wants rest, I have no doubt." 

The bruised body of Jerry was soon composed to 
sleep, and his brave rescuers also. 

Davis kept Jerry at his house four days — had tools 
made to break the irons jfrom his ankles — and at the 
end of that time he was sufficiently healed to start 
for Canada. 

On the evening of the 5th of October, 1851, Jason 
& Hoyt procured a noble span of horses from the 
livery stable of the late Mayor Woodruff, and drove 
into his own yard in the rear of Caleb Davis' dwell- 
ing house, and there received Mr. Davis and Jerry. 
Davis and Hoyt mounted the seat, and laid Jerry on 
his back under them, and covered him with straw, 
and started for Canada. Mr. Davis went as a sort of 
body guard to see them fairly on the way. James 
Davis and Doct. Potter also preceded them to see the 
coast clear, and to receive Caleb at Oneida Bridge 
and return him to Syracuse, as they did do. 

Hoyt was directed to an individu^ some twenty- 
five miles from Syracuse, whose name is forgotten.* 
"Scarcely had they parted with the Davises and Doct 

had been made on fbe militia to Buppreui an attempt to rescue a alave, he returned 
and told his wife— who was a ferrent abolitionist — ** If the militia come out, 1 will 
come out, too— there will be enough to turn out. We will see if citiien soldiers 
will shoot us." 



Potter, wlieii they were vigorously pursued — ^and 
Jerry, most anxious to make liis freedom secure, pro- 
posed to take to the fields. 

" No, no !" said Mr. Hoyt, "I provided this instru- 
ment (showing a six barrel revolver,) for a crisis like 
this. It is carefully loaded and ready for use. You 
must now take this iron bar, provided for you, and if 
they outspeed and attempt to take us, you will strike 
to kill and I will shoot to kill. It shall be a life 

This proposition suited the daring spirit of the 
slave, and the compact for freedom or death was 
made with a zest. In the meantime, Mr. Hoyt put 
his horses to the greatest speed compatible with safe- 
ty. For a while the enemy actually gained on them, 
but after a race of some seven or ten miles, Hoyt's 
horses proved of strongest bottom, and left Ihe pur- 
suers out of sight. Arriving, as Hoyt supposed, at 
the friends house who was to receive Jerry, he drove 
directly into the yard and into the bam, and closed 
the door, to be out of sight of their pursuers, if they 
had ndt turned back in despair — as it seems they 
had done. This freedom was taken with the farmer 
without consulting him. He soon got out of his bed 
and showed himself. 

" Here is a man who wants a passage to Oswego," 
said Mr. Hoyt, pointing to Jerry. 

" I understand it — ^we have heard all about it here;" 
said the man, in a voice indicating both surprise and 
fear. "We don't approve of the thing — ^but sincQ 
you have come to me, I won't betray you. It is my 

424: , J. W. LOGUEN. 

neighbor, there, you are after. I will go and call 
him — ^but roiad you, I take no part in breaking the 

In ten miQutea the excited farmer brought in his 
more cool and considerate neighbor, who, addressing* 
himself at once to Hoyt and Jerry, said : — 

" If you have anything for me to do, I am ready to 
do it — ^I ask no questions." 

"I want you," said Mr. Hoyt, " to take this man 
and deliver him at Oswego before morning, that he 
may take the boat for Canada." 

In a-brief time Jerry was on the road with his gen- 
erous conductor, and in due time was safe in Oswego. 
In the morning he1xx)k an early boat to Canada, and 
aqrrived there the same day in good condition — ^where 
he lived, respected for his industry, morals and gen- 
eral chaifaoter, until taken off by death. 

Thus ends a brief of the Jerry Eescue — a model 
tragedy of sublime significance— which resurrected 
the spirit of freedom and respect for law— overrode 
the power of slavery in the Empire State — broke the 
charm of party — gave freedom to conscience and 
righteous politics — compelled the respect of political 
afipirants, and like the brazen serpent, to«day, demands 
that such aspirants look to it and live, or turn from it 
and die. 




The slave Jeny was now rescued — ^the govermnent 
boldly nullified, and the telegraphic wires were send- 
ing the good deed throughthe continent. It remain- 
ed to be seen that Syracuseans would meet the recoil 
of their heroic conduct with persistent resolution and 
wisdom. At this point, the pro-slavery partisans and 
ofiBldals hoped to clutch the ephemeral pluck ©f Syra- 
cuse and crush it. They waited the cooling of the 
fires, to see the people tremble through fear of legal 
penalties, and crouch into subjection at the sight of 
their doings. 

The test of character was to come. To meet the 
crisis, and not suffer the revolutionary spirit to chill, 
the leading minds seized the prestige of the rescue to 
assemble an immense meeting of the people, to bap- 
tize anew in its fires, and commit them to an open 
endorsement, of the rescue, and strengthen the feeble 
by pledging the public support to whoever might be 
prosecuted therefor. 

Of course a small portion of the citizens could 
crowd into the City Hall at this meeting ; but such 
as could not get in, met at the public houses and oth- 
er public places, to consider the same subject. The 
meetings, within and without the Hall, glowed with 

426 JF. W. LOGUEN. 

like indignation at the attempt to make Syracuse a 
hunting ground for slaves — repeated their detestation 
of the fugitive slave law, and their admiration of the 
men who bravely set it at nought. The more cau- 
tious and timid citizens, becoming fiimiliar with thft 
transaction, were attracted by its goodness and beau- 
ty ; and not a few of them, at the meeting and else- 
where, were free to unite in the endorsement of it, 
and pledge their sympathy and support to the actors 
therein, to the extent " of their lives and fortunes 
and sacred honor." 

The friends of the rescue were now much multipli- 
ed and encouraged, while their enemies were reduced 
to a men* court party of discouraging and contempti- 
ble diminituveness. It only remained to be seen 
whether the government could enforce its bloody en- 
actment in Syracuse. Orders were issued from Wash- 
ington for a stem execution of ^he law, and the of- 
fending citizens prepared to meet the malice of the 
political powers through the Judiciary already degra- 
ded to their use. 

Jarmain W. Loguen, and the fugitive slaves to a 
man, were heart and hand in the rescue. But they 
stood in different circumstances from the rest of the 
rescuers. To the latter, the penalty was fine and im- 
prisonment only ; to.them, it was more terrible than 
the penalties for murder and treason. The provisions 
of the act delivered them, without trial, to perjured 
claimants, to be taken to distant States, to be beasts 
of burden for life. Many citizens, who, with him, en- 
gaged in the rescue, and were liable to its penalties. 

RETiBiNa TO MEa fuller's. ^7 

were especially anxioui for Mr, Loguen. To take 
him from Syracuse and return him to bondage, would 
be so notable a triumph for slavery, as to be publish- 
ed through the land to the discouragement of the 
friends of freedom. And though nine-tenths of the 
people would have periled their hves and property 
to avoid the calamity, they were anxious to escape 
such a complication of affairs. 

To avoid the complication just named, many citi- 
zens of wisdom and influence, so soon as Jerry was 
out of reach, advised Mr. Loguen to retire until the 
skies cleared up. So concerned were they, that they 
called at his house, when he was surrounded by his 
wife and children, and urged him, with much earnest- 
ness, to do so. At first, he had no ears to listen 
to the proposition — ^because it was directly oppos- 
ed . to his resolution, considerately formed. On be- 
ing told what was then, and .still is, generally be- 
lieved, that his master was near to claim him, and 
that he would piost certainly be siezed under the law, 
he spumed the idea of fleeing from him or it — or se- 
creting himself from either. To do either, was a con- 
cession that his dignity and manhood would not con- 
sent to. He declared his resolution to go and come 
as before, in the face of day, and meet the Marshal 
and his master with weapons, in the conflict, if need 

Bu*; the wishes of Mr, Loguen, in this regard, were 
destined to be overruled. The entreaties, and even 
ter.i's, of his wife, conspired with the entreaties of his 
friends in the city, and he submitted to what he re- 

428 * J. W. LOGUEN. 

garded a sad mortification — ^not for his sake, but for 
theirs.* Having made up his mind to leave Syra- 
cuse temporarily, to avoid a trial supposed to be very 
near him, he packed up at once, and retired to 
Skaneateles, and found an asylum in the family 
of the late Lydia Fuller, which was ever open to 
the fleeing slave. Mrs. Fuller was the aged widow 
of the late venerable James Cannings Fuller, Esq., a 
Quaker gentleman of talent and fortune. After pass- 
ing through the conflict of West India Emancipation, 
in his own country, he emigrated to the United States, 
and settled at Skaneateles, just in time to give his 
hand and tongue and purse to^the cause of AJfrican 
freedom in his adopted country. He came to Amer- 
ica for quiet and repose, after sf laborious and expen- 
sive European conflict — ^but unexpectedly and provi- 
dentially to meet the enemy in his entrenchments, 
and leave his body in the field of battie. He- was a 
man of strong mind and unshrinking courage. The 
latter quality fitted him to face manyjnobs, and the 
former to soothe and instruct them — and .both quali- 
ties, combined with the sleepless impulses of his 
heart in behalf of the slave, attracted the respect and 
admiration of abolitionists, and will command the 
blessings of all true men, now the star of freedom is 

Mrs. Fuller and family were glad to do good to 
their persecuted friend, and watched him -and suppli- 
ed him with all things his case needed — ^but they 

*It was then currently reported that James R. Lawrence, Esq., the Dist. Attorney 
of the United States, had 'given out that Mr. Loguen would be siezed and returned 
to his master, at all OTents, as one of the consequences of the Jerry Rescue. 


cotdd not keep him. Good as they were to* him, he 
felt that he was a voluntary prisoner, and his restless 
spirit conld not brook restraints, imposed though they" 
were by the truest friendship. If he must be a pris- 
oner, he resolved it should be on larger limits, where 
he could be useful to others, if not to himself. In- 
deed, it was a religious principle with him, that the 
good he did others, was, in fact, good to himself. 

After a residence of three or four days with these 
good people, he thanked them for their kindness, and 
said he must leave them and go to Canada without 
delay. To this the Fullers consented, on condition 
that they keep his hofte, free of charge, until his re- 
turn, and that he be taken to Canada at the expense 
of his friends. 

Early in the morning, Sumner Fuller, son of Ly- 
dia Fuller, harnessed his own horse to the family car- 
riage, and rode him into Rochester, to the house of 
Samuel D. Porter, a man eminent for his fidelity to 
the slave. Porter immediately procured a liyery, and 
himself and Fuller and Loguen rode to the steamboat 
landing on the lakes, and there left him. He imme- 
diately took the boat for Lewiston, and passed over 
the bridge at sunrise on foot into, Canada at Queens- 

He was now in Canada, where he first drew free 
breath — where he planted his foot many years before 
with unutterable enthusiasm. Slavery drove him 
•there in both' cases — ^but how different his circumstan- 
ces and feelings now from what they were then I If 
words could not utter the joy he then felt, neither 

480 x'w. LOGUffir. 

can they faintl j picture the swellings of his bosom 

The first time, in many days, he was alone* Ho 
liad seen the last man turn sorrowing away and leave 
him to drag his heavy heart over the river. It was 
against his own judgment and the passions of his Yia- 
ture to do so. The panorama of his Ufe arose in his 
soul like an accusing presence, as he passed along. 
Its soul-stirring objects and scenes and motives sur- 
rounded him, and uttered an implacable lie exeat ev- 
ery step he took. But, right or wrong, the die was 
oast. His friends had conmiitted him, and it only re- 
mained to suffer bravely and briefly as possible. ' He 
parted from the objects his heart loved, to enter the 
mental world within him, and see those objects in a 
form inexpressibly touching and overpowering. His 
history and its relations from infancy were present in 
the intellectual firmament, surrounded by his long- 
ings and aspirations, and hopes and prospects. Time 
and space passed away, and all he lived for in the 
past and present were grouped in his sight, and melt- 
ed his heart. He felt the throbbings of his wife's 
and children's hearts against his own — ^the loves of 
his mother, brothers and sisters scattered and chained, 
the prayers t)f his outraged race — the generous labors 
of the abolitionists, and the brave blow just struck 
at Syracuse — the upheaving of mighty freedom 
throughout the land — the unutterable interests at 
stake, and his vile expatriation, oppressed him to 
tears* So absorbed was he with this mental scenery, 
that the great river rolled beneath his feet, and the 


Inighty cataract thundered in the distance, and the 
birds sung over his head, and the landscape spread 
its gorgeous prospect before him, without awakening 
hjs senses to the outer world. His heart, his duties, 
his life's aims, his whole soul was on one side of the 
river and his body on the other. Intensely excited, 
he gave vent to his feelings and tears, and talked 
aloud : — 

" Has it come to this ? Is slavery yet so mighty 
that I must quit my country that my friends be not 
burdened by my person and rights ? Must I be el- 
bowed out of it because God gave me a dark skin 
and Manasseth Logue robbed my raother^s cradle ? 
Shall the battle of freedom be fought, and I not suf- 
fered to engage in it ? And who shall engage in that , 
battle if I may not ? Tell me that slavery is a crea- 
ture of law I Away with such blasphemy. It is 
the offspring of a soul that knows no law — no truth — 
no God, and given up to live a lie. If the Constitu- 
tion and statutes endorse such a stupendous falsehood, 
which they do not, God demands that they be hated 
and trampled on. Even the damned are free to live 
their infernal lusts, to this extent only, that they 
trespass not upon the freedom of others. God only 
restrains men at the point where they assail the rights 
of their fellow men. Within that limit they live as 
they will, on earth and in Hell. It is the law of all 
laws — 'the law of Heaven— and of earth and Hell be- 
cause it is the law of Heaven. At this pass, God has 
stationed all the energies of the human soul, and 
commands them * to arms * to resist the least attempt 
to pass it. Those energies are God^s body guard to 
defend the central principle of his spirit and king- 
dom, * thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself The 
axiom, ^resistance to tyrants is obedience to God,' has 
its origin here* All just war begins here, because all 

432 J. W. LOGUEN. 

law begins and ends here — ^it is the Thermopyloe of 
the universe, and God stimulates every motive of the 
soul to defend it, — for his whole government is 
staked on it. Aye, that is the moral of these old 
battle fields — that is the language of this huge pile 
to the brave Brock whose shade marks its daily cres- 
cent on the spot where I stand. Spirits of Lundy's 
Lane ! what were your wrongs, compared to mine ? 
What vour motives to fight, compared to those that 
are inflaming and bursting the vitals of my guilty 
coui^try ? What other motive can God employ to 
stir me to mortal resistance, beside those tnat are 
burning my heart and seething my brain this mo- 
ment? My wife and children trembling for their 
outraged husband and father, surrounded by trem- 
bling white men almost as timid as they — my moth- 
er, brothers and sisters, and kindred ana race embru- 
ted — ^the very color God gave us made a mark of dis- 
honor by the tyrant whose blood my revolver thirsts 
for I The tide of progress rising, too, and breaking 
its waves at Syracuse and elsewhere, and bellowing 
above the storm, *N"ow 9R Never!* Come bloody 
battle, I say — I care not' how bloody, if these out- 
rages continue 1" 

We do not give the exact words of Mr. Loguen, 
but its substance and spirit only. How long his solilo- 
quy lasted, he did not know. As we have before 
said, he was lost in the flot>d of his emotions, and his 
voice rolled through fields and forests, and was heard 
by people at a distance, who, not knowing his case, 
questioned his sanity. So soon as they came in his 
presence, they mutually recognized each other. He 
knew them as fugitives he had helped to Canada, and 
they knew him as their benefactor and friend. 

The State of things at Syracuse was already known 


in Canadl^ ^d a brief explanation of his ca^e suf- 
ficed to discoyer his sanity to his companions>and fel- 
low sufferers. They immediately took him into St 
Cathrines, where, and ip. the viciuity, there Wjsre 
many other fugitives and, colored men. These, with 
many white men, to whom his eminent labors and 
sacrifices for the slave were known, received him with 
respect add honor. They immediately employed him 
to preach to the colored people, and to teach the pat- 
ents and children. His religious and literary labors 
were eminently blessed, A great awakening com- 
menced among his hearers, which added to his Church 
many converts. This was a great satisfaction to him. 
Of course his religion was of that sort which em- 
braced both the poor and the enslaved. Thus was he 
preparing a soil, by religious instrumentality, to re- 
ceive -the many sons of sorrow he afterwards sent 
there. Driven, as he wag, from his fiimily and coun- 
try, his benevolent activities mollified his bereav^nent 
and made his expatriation more endureable. 

When the spring arrived, his desire to return to 
Syracuse was irrepressible ; and though informed by 
letters from his friends, that he and many others 
were indicted for a part taken in the rescue of Jerry, 
^,nd that the Attorney of the United States held a 
warrant for his arrest — ^and though some of those 
friends exhorted him to stay in Canada, his love of 
freedom, family and country, and great desire to share 
in the trials of the abolitionists, determined him, in 
the spring of '52, to return to Syracuse and face his • 

foes. Hi3 was ashamed longer to yield to counsel 

Wliicli shocked his manhood. The feet that he had 
so yielded, for a few nlonths, aroused his energies, 
fend discarding all opposing counsel, and all fear of 
consequences, he retiitned tod threw himself defiant* 
ly in the midst of his enemies. 

He was received ty his family with an excess of 
tremulous satisfaction — ^but when he appeared in the 
streets, with a bold brow and a firm tread, aU eyes 
Were ttitned to him. But if many hearts trembled 
for him, such trembling found no sympathy in his 
Own bosom. , 

" How could yoti — ^how dare you come back ?** was 
the enquiry of many prudent ones ; and his tmiform 
reply was :— 

" Because I was ashamed to act like a criminal or 
a slave any longer. If the Marshal has a warrant to 
serve on- me, let him serve it — ^but if he attempts to 
take me as a slave, let him beware I I respect no 
process that disregards my manhood.'* 

The warrant against Mr. Logueli) which had beeli 
so long waiting his returii from Canada, must now be 
served. But such was his known character for 
strength, bravery aud spirit^ that the Marshal, though 
he desired only to go. through the form of an arrest 
and take bail, which he kuew there were* hundreds 
In the city ready to give, was unwilling to meet him 
alone, even for a formal eitecutiotii of his process. 
His bold return was evidence that such process, or 
any peril incident to his condition as a ftigitive, had 
ho terrors for him* The audacity of his movements 
impressed the consciousness of the tTi Si Marshal in 

liOGtJEN's ARREST. 485 

the form of a warning and- a prophecy. His pru- 
dence, therefore, cautioned him to take such it course 
in the execution of the warrant, as should not arouse 
the lion in the veins of this JAist and brave man. 

Hon. Charles B. Sedgwick, of Syracuse^ was the 
Iriend of Loguen-^a stern nullifier of the fiigitive 
dave enactment, and a learned and valiant counsellor 
of the indicted rescuers. He was a member of the 
Vigilen.ce Committee of the city with Mr. Loguen, and 
in him the latter had implicit confidence. The Mar- 
shal knew this, and therefore called on Mr. Sedgwick 
to go with him to Loguen's house, and explain to him 
the limits of the process, and advise him to submit to 
it, and allow Sedgwick and others to be bail for him. 
Mr. Sedgwick complied with this request, and they 
went to Loguen's house for the purpose, but foimd . 
him absent in the city. 

When Mr. Loguen was notified of the above visit, 
he readily avowed submission to any arrest that did 
not purpose to sieze him as a slave — ^but at the «ame 
* time insisted he would not be bailed by sureties for 
any offence under the fUgitive act. Charles A. 
Wheaton, and others, called on him, and offered to 
be his sureties— but he replied to them all, that they 
must not bail him, for that he would not give any 
name but his own for bail. If arrested, he would be 
committed, if sureties were demanded. He would 
do nothing that seemed to imply that this nefarious 
act had the least force. 

Harry Allen, the Marshal, having learned that Mr. 
Loguen would submit to his arrest, and that his own 

496 ^' w. ix)^vW' 

-pexBcm was 9s& if be attempted tQ ^r¥e the w«mm( 
in £Mi ofiBLeer-like manner, met iMjr. LogUien, and polity 
Ij informed ibim ]}e hiui a warrant against him^ foim<Jr 
ed on an indictment for reficuing Jerry. 

Mr. Iioguen said ke was aware of tbQ warranty and 
told Mm to serve it. Allen then presented it blank 
bail bond for his appearance, and Loguen signed ijL 
09. inqnimig who he would get &>t sureties,' Logaen 
replied : — 

^* I wUl get nobody to be my snxeties." 

"Why, it is mere form. There are thon«and^ ia 
the dty who will sign the bond with you. If you 
xequest it, Sedgwick and Wheaton, and almost eyery 
other good citizen will sign it All I want is to serve 
my process and go about my business." 

" I positively forbi4 Sedgwick or Wbeato^, or any 
other person to be my bail. If my own bond is not 
Bufficientj you must commit me. With me the giv- 
ing surety is not form — ^it is substa^cice." 

The Marshal found he could not then be induced to 
give sureties ; lie therefore left him for the present, 
determined to see him again^ wh^i he hoped to be 
successful. Again and again he saw him, aaid found 
him p^sistent in the determination,- and was obliged, 
himself, for appearance sake, to procure them against 
Jjc^uen's consent He presented the blank privately 
to Abner Bates and Hon. C. B. Sedgwick— ^ey 
readUy signed it, and he returned the process. 

This was shrewd management of the Marshal. 
Had he arrested Loguen, and attempted, to lead him 
through the city to prison, it would have been like 

A cntotjitsrrANGE. 487 

throwing a fite bnfcnd into- ft pdwdei* hoime. It Wbtild 
have been a sight the people could not etidtire, and 
the city would be in flames about Imn. Already had 
he been indicted for arresting, or attempting to Md- 
nap Jerry. » His circumstance Were critical', and he 
knew that to commit Jarmain W. Loguen, in a case 
Mke that, wotdd inflame Sytactise to maidness, and en^ 
rage the eottotty, and the fls^m^s would epr#ad ettf 
central aisd western New York. 

Not long after this, aji event o6cltffired to^ te«t th4 
public concern for Mr. Loguen, and to i^ow what 
the people would do in case he was Seized as a dare. 
On his return from Canada, he erigsiged, ai^ before, in 
passing through the country, colleeting ftrndsi to aid 
slaves, and stirring the people to meet the fugitive^ 
law with phy^cal resistance'— even to the shboting, iyf 
otherwise killiug the Marshal or claimaiUt, if need be^ 
to prevent the return of a slave. 

Bnt he needed his hoise and earridge, Ti^hich still 
remained at Skanetateles with his friend Lydia Ful- 
ler. He took the cars! in the morning to go after 
them; It so happened that Mars^ Allen and tw(y 
or three police officers were on board iiie Same cars, 
armed witii heavy clubs or batons^ of office. Mr. 
Logtten was well acquainted with these men-^but the 
last thing to enter his mind -vras to fear them. 

" What in the world haS started out the civil po- 
lice of Syracuse with their clubs?"* said Loguen, as 
he walked carelessly and pleasantly and took a seaf 
near them in the cars. " Where are you going ?" 

" We ar^ going to Ailbtim." 

488 J. W. LOGUBN. 

"Have the prisoners rose in rebellion, that our 
whole corps is called liiere with clubs to help put 
them down ?" sai*he, with a waggish smUe. 

They laughed, and made a sportive reply, which 
gave no idea of their intent. 

On board the same cars, and ki conversationaj 
proximity, were two ladies ftom Ithaca, To^upkins 
county, to wit : Mrs. Brum and Mrs. Lewis, acquaint- ' 
ances aiid friends of Loguen. On his way to the 
Junction, the point of his departure from the cars to 
Skaneateles, he filled up the time in playful colloquy 
with the Marshal and his companions on one side;, and 
polite conversation with the ladies on the other. 

These ladies, all the way, were oppressed with the 
apprehension that the oMcers obtained a foretnowl- 
edge of Loguen's departure from the city, and follow- 
ed to arrest him at a distance from his friends. They 
heard the talk between them and Loguen, and the 
manner of it intensified their suspicions and . fears. 
Arrived at the Junction, the officers led the way out 
of the cars, and Loguen bid the ladies good by, and 
cajielesdy followed them with his usual stately and 
reckless carriage. 

The feehngs of' the ladies were now wrought to an 
excess of alarm, for they inferred that this was the 
identical point where they intended to arrest him. 
And as but one of the constables returned, when the 
cars started for Auburn, leaving Mr. Loguen and the 
rest behind, they were overwhelmed with the convic* 
tion that their pretence of going to Auburn was a 
sham, to lead Loguen into a trap, and that they had 


actually sprung it upon him and seized him. On 
their arrival at Auburn, they published these facta, 
and the story was immediately ciroulated through tho 
city that the U. S. Marshal, assisted by a corps of 
constables, had arrested Jarmain "W. Loguen at the 
Junction. The^ity waa instantly thrown into a tem- 
pest— for Mr. Loguen was & favorite there as at Sy- 
Tacuse. Mechanics .dropped their tools — ^merchants 
and customers, citizens and laborers left their busi» 
ness, and ran about the streets to learn the truth of 
this report, and to gather armed men for his rescue. 

John E. Hopkins, a devoted friend of freedom and 
of Loguen, instantly resorted to the telegraph ofBice, 
and sent a despatch to Charles A. Wheaton, of Syra* 
cuse, "purporting " The news by the western train 
just arrived is that J, W. Loguen was arrested by 
the U. S. Marshal and a posse of constables at the 
Junction this morning." The church bells at Syra- 
cuse were immediately set tolling, and the citizens 
rushed into the street^ to learn the cause. 

"Loguen was arrested at the Junction, by Marshal 
Allen and his posse, and is being hurried secretly out 
of the country I" was the cry through the streets, 
from store to store, and from house to house — ^and 
the whole city was convulsed by excitement • For th§ 
moment, business ceased, and a concern for Loguen 
engrossed the passionate attention of the people. Tha 
cause and the effect was as an electric shock. 

" How comes this ?" said one. 

" What are the &cts?" said another. 

^^ To the Congregation^ church 1" said anoth^. 

440 J. yr. logubn. 

" Yes, to the Oongregational cimrcli, and look into 
this case — and if it is tme^ take measnres to rescue 
him 1" 

" We'll gave him, if it costs the life of the Mar- 
shal P 

" Yes, and our own in the bargainJ" 

" To the Congregational church ! To the Congre- 
gational Church !" was the universal cry. 

The streets were immediately filled with citizens, 
hastening to the Congregational church. The vari- 
ous expressions of their faces, all indicating the stem - 
passions of their souls, was a subject for a painter. 
Some were armed with revolvers— others declared 
they would arm and pursue and shoot the kidnappers 
and save Loguen— otliers handled thfeir roUs of bank 
notes, and offered money to defray the cost of the 
enterprise. Mr. Wheaton was already at the houitej 
and as people arrived, explained to them the &o(stb ist 
the'case ; and that they act under no mistake, he was 
advised to telegraph back to Mr. Hopkins, and re- 
quest him to return the particulars. 

While these things were going ont at Syracuse^ if r* 
Hopkins, by the advice of Hon. Wm. H. Seward and 
others, at Auburn, proceeded directiy to the Junc- 
tion, and followed up Mr. Loguen, to be assured in 
the premises, and in case he was arrested, to tele- 
gwiph the fact in every direction through the country. 

Hopkins learned at the Junction that Harry Allen, 
with the constables, armed as aforesaid, did leave 
the cars there as reported, and that Mr. Loguen rode 
off in thfr Skaneat^les stage. He immediately pro- 


ceeded to Skaneateles, where lie arrived a little after 
noon, and found Mr. Loguen seated at the dinner ta- 
ble with the femily of his generous and great heart- 
ed friends, • the Fullers. He took a seat by his side, 
and while sateing his appetite with good things, gave 
a history of the great fire at Auburn which the " lit- 
tle matter " had kindled, and fix)m a grave affair it 
became a subject of amusiug entertainment 

Mr. Loguen arrived in Syracuse that night, and 
was hailed by many of the citizens as he passed 
along, and informed of the commotion in his absence. 
Not having heard from Auburn or Skaneateles 
through the telegraph or from the men sent to the 
latter place, the alarm, though settled to a rational 
determination, had by no means subsided. He often 
heard his name pronounced from the side walk, as he 
rode along, and occasionally — 

"That's Loguen I" 

" That's him— I know his horse and carriage," &c. 

Having given evidence of his return to some by 
his personal presence, he passed as privately and rap- 
idly as possible, most intent to get home and quiet 
the intense anxiety of his wife and children. 

Scarcely had he arrived at home, and gladdened 
his anxious jEamily by his presence, soothing and 
laughing off their fears, when a delegation of citi- 
zens knocked at his door — ^who, after congratulating 
him on his return, and pleasantly noting the popular 
survivance of a glorious humbug, earnestly iavited 
him to retum iato the city and address the people. 

442 J. W. LOGUEN. 

who were rejoicing under the stimulus of a delight 
ful reaction. 

He thanked them for the honor of their visit and 
invitation — and more especially he thanked them and 
the citizens of Syracuse through them, for their gen- 
erous concern and manfdl demonstration during his 
absence — but respectfully declined to return to ad- 
dress the people, on account of the lateness of the 
hour and the weariness of his body. 


Theandictment against Loguen was never tried. Those in- 
dicted with him were Enoch Reed, (colored), W, L. SaJmon, J. 
B. Brigham, Ira H. Cobb, James Davis, Moses Sunmiers, Mont- 
gomery Merrick, L. H. Salsbury, W, L. Crandall, Prince Jack- 
son, (colored), William Thompson, (colored), Stephen Porter, 
and Harrison Allen,^ (colored). The three first named only were 
put on trial. Reed was found guilty — ^not of a crime under the 
Fugitive Act — ^but on a count for resisting process, prudently 
annexed to the main charge — and he died pending an appeal 
from the verdict Salmon and Brigham were tried and acquit- 
ted. The Jury disagreed on the trial of Cobb, and his case was 
never again brought up. The prosecutions and trials were, of 
course, political prosecutions and trials ; and immediately after 
Mr. CobVs trial, the parties which intended them for their 
good, found them a burden and a curse. The act became in- 
famous, and the zeal for victims under it died with the party 
that enacted it The indictments, like the statute, having failed 


their end, were left to perish by legal outlawry and public 

Some of the defendants were poor men, and some of them 
colored men; but the readiness with which the wealthiest, 
wisest and best men, at Syracuse and Auburn, (where many of 
them were let to bail,) volunteered to be their sureties, is proof 
that poor inen and colored men, rich men and wise men, may 
sympathize in a common interest. The rescuers and their bail 
balanced their persons and property against the Government^ 
in a desperate struggle for supremacy. The only method ih^t 
great minds and heroic hearts could adopt to put the infamous 
law on trial, was to throw themselves against it, and trust the 
ener^ of public virtue and publican opinion to lead them in 
triumph over it. Such has been the history of Freedom in all 
time ; and such the history of the popular triiunph over the 
Fugitive Slave Law in Syracuse. The Judges, Conklin, Nelson 
and Marvin,* were the tools of guilty power, and leaned, with 
inexpressible meanness and servility, against the heroic defend- 
ants ; but an Omnipotent public opinion carried them through, 
and consigned those Judges, and the law and Mberty-killing 
statute^ to perpetual impotence and dishonor. 

The gentlemen who volunteered to give bail in these cases, 
were Alfred Cobb, Wm. H. Seward, George Barnes, Hiram Put- 
nam, S. J. May, Wm. E. Abbott, R. R. Raymond, Seth Height, 
Abner Bates, Charles B. Sedgwick, and 0. A. Wheaton. Be- 
sides these, Horace White, Hamilton White, E. W. Leaven- 
worth, and others, signed a written indenmity to any body and 
every body who would bail them, at Syracuse or elsewliere. 
Hon. Gerrit Smith, who was one of the rescuers, volunteered as 
their counsel, and associated with him C. B. Sedgwick, D. D« 
Hilis, Le Roy Morgan, J. G. Forbes, and Gen. Nye. 

The contest between the people and the Government having 
terminated, Mr. Loguen walked into the U. G. Rail Road Depot 

*The Grand Jury of Onondaga Otfontj indicted Barry Allen for attempting to 
kidnap Jerry, upon th« assumption that the Fugitive Blare Act under which Jerry- 
was arrested was unconstitutional and void ; but Judge Marvfti, of the ESghtu 
District of New York, bent his servile spirit to the uses of ilaYexy, soBtainM tha 
act, and let the crimiiial go. 

Ml J. If. .LOaUEN. 

witti the, pride and*. boldness of a conqueror, and welcomed to 
his house and aided to Canada one thousand and fiye hundred 
AigiiiyeB. From tiiat time to this, his time, talents and fortune 
hm been exchisiTely and laboriouslj doToted to that busines — 
and he faas^pursued it with an energy, perseverence and»success 
tiiat has attracted the admiration of^the country. 

We hare now finished the story of Jarmain W. Loguen. It 
would be supererogation to pursue it further. When his career 
is ended, another 'volume may ^ve the supplement of his life 
and characto*. We purposely aroid cotemporary occurrences, 
whidi more properly b^ong to that Yolume than to this. We 
name but one of them, and that because it is of a public char- 
acter, only to pass it by in the order of events. We allude to 
the controversy between himself and Rev. H. Mattison, in re- 
gard to the claims of the TJ. G. Rail Road upon the congrega- 
tions and preachers of the M. E. Church. That controversy 
consists of a series of letters and replies, published, first in the 
iMwi^apers, and afterwards in a pamphlet, and circulated 
through the country. We believe it has fbund a grave in the 
charities of two christian hearts, and a mutual desire to cleanse 
the world of human slavery. But the nominal €hurch and the 
political parties of this country have &inted in the conflict In 
Mgard to sectarian and party supremacy, they openly consent 
tiiat the heaven-defying villainy shall live. 

And now, when the slave has no hope from Church or State, 
— ^rhen the measure of his tears is full — ^when his wrongs have 
involved the heavens in blackness, we wait the flilfilment of Mr. 
Je£ferson*s prophesy — and with him, look to the Almighty Fath- 
er to demolish slavery '* by his exterminating thunder.** The 
coldness with which the politics and religion of this country 
turn away from the Slave, is sad but 'irresistible proof that 
■brTwynrastgo down in blood. 



Teftimony of Bev. E. Fr Bogers. 

Thi following article, from Key. S. P. Rogers, was written fixr 
a Prefiioe to this Book— but it came too late to be used for iiiat 
purpose ; and we give it a place in our Appendix. 

Ebj^j in the winter of *88, I became acquainted with the 
Bey. J. W. Loguen. 

Being then engaged as a teacher of a public school, in the 
city of Rochester, N. Y., Mr. Loguen made application, and was 
cheerfully receiyed as fi, pupil. Haying been brought up in 
Tennessee slayery, which institution, whereyer it is found, 
neyer &ils to bequeath to its yictims the miserable inheritance 
of ignorance, he was of course without education, saye the 
little which he had gleaned from time to time, by his own per- 
seyering eflEbrts. 

But though the taskmaster had fettered his limbs,- and 
depriyed him of learning, yet it was eyident that his soul was 
unshackled, and his lofty spirit unsubdued. 

I am not aware that Mr. Loguen made any secret of the fiict 
that he was a fugitiye, and then, as now, bid defiance to his 

446 J. W. LOGUEN. 

During the winter which Mr. Loguen was under my tuition, 
he improved rapidly in the primary branches of education ; and 
at the same time manifested a strong desire to be serviceable in 
some way to his down-trodden race. 

The writer, being about the same age of Mr. Loguen, and 
both being in pursuit of knowledge with a view to future use- 
fulness, a close intimacy sprang up between us which time has 
not impaired. 

Observing that Mr. Loguen was a man of uncommon energy 
of mind, and of a truly benevolent spirit, I soon became anx- 
ious that he should enter upon a course of study, in some of 
the liberal institutions of the day. 

Li the following Spring, when about to return to the Oneida 
Institute in Whitesboro', N. Y., of which I was a menaber, (at 
that time presided over by Rev* Beriah Green, a well known 
scholar and philanthropist,) I urged Mr. Loguen to avail him- . 
self of the benefits of that Institution. His friends, likewise, 
of whom he had very many in Rochester, (among whom was 
Mrs. Sherman, now the wife of the writer,) counselled him to 
go forward and prepare for a higher calling. 

Mr. Loguen, yielding to the solicitations of his friends, who 
clearly saw that he was a man of no ordinary abilities, entered 
the preparatory department of the Institute the same season, 
and commenced a course of study, which, had time and means 
permitted him to finish, would have pla'ced him among the best 
scholars in that Institution. 

The day upon which Mr. Loguen entered the Institute, was 
an auspicious one for him — ^because it brought him in contact 
with students of aspiring genius, most of whom were the open 
and avowed enemies of slavery, and the advocates of equal 
rights, — and frequently listening to President Green upon those 
great subjects, whose words in those d&ys touching the rights 
of man, " were as if one inquired at the oracle of God," it is 
not strange that Mr. Loguen, particularly as these truthful 
sentiments found a ready response in the deep chambers of his 
soul, should be so iufluenced thereby, as to dedicate himself to 


that particular branch of the anti-slayery work, in which he 
has since been so successfully engaged. 

Such was Mr. Loguen's progress at the Institute, that at the 
end of the first term he was able to teach an excellent school 
in Utica. 

And after spending some two seasons at the Institution, 
where, bj diligence and christian deportment, h^ won the con- 
fidence and esteem of both students and professors, and«during 
that time making himself useful as a Sabbath School teacher 
and exhorter among his brethren in Utica, he was happily 
imited in marriage to Misg Caroline Storom, a lady every way 
worthy of him, entered the ministry, and settled at Syracuse, 
N. Y., where he has since acted in the double capacity of 
religious teacher and Superintendent of the Undergrourhd 

Since Mr. Loguen has been engaged in the noble work alluded 
to, he has been well known to the public*, and his biography 
will be eagerly sought by thousands who have heard his elo- 
quent appeals, and listened to the outrages which heartless 
tyrants perpetrated upon him and his unfortunate relatives. 

From the first, I beheld in Mr. Lognen a noble spirit and 
manly independence, as well as other qualities indicative of 
future greatness and usefulness. But little did I think a few 
years would find him occupying one of the proudest and most 
responsible positions, among those who care for the oppressed 
in this land. 

But it is even so ; Jermain W. Loguen is unquestionably one 
of the most distinguished men in the country, in the particular 
field in which be labors ; and not only in this country, but also 
in 0I4 England, thousands of anti-slavery men and women are 
&miliar with his name, and the history of his labors for the 
last few years. 

On account of the interest felt in his life and labors, in 
England, Mr. liOguen's work will doubtless have a wide circu- 
lation in that country. 

To say nothing of the hundreds 0/ poor heart-broken fugitives, 


448 J. W. LOGUEN. 

who have been sheltered an^ oared for by Mr. Loguen, and wtio 
have been sent on their way rejoicing by means collected by 
his own hand, he has done mudi in vaiious other ways to aid 
the anti-«layezy cause. He has lectured in towns and cities, and 
preached in many pulpits in western New York ; and wherevOT 
be has been, be has done much to remoYe prejudice against the 
colored man, and to break down ihe prevailing opinion that the 
black man is naturally inferior to tiiie white man. 

And as none can feel for the fugitive from slavery as he can, 
who has been crushed by its power, and whose heart has been 
made to bleed by its cruelties, let us never &il to encourage 
those having Ihe requisite qualifications, to aid others, escaping 
from the land of despotism to ike land oi the free. 

Such conduct is not only according to the dictates of himian- 
ity, but a plain and solemn duty which God requires man to 

If the words of tiie Bible, "hide the outcasts and betray 
not him that wandered," mean anything at all, they mean that 
it is the duty oi Christians and philanthropists to da all that 
Mr. Loguen and his patrons have done for the last few years, 
fi»r those who were justly entitled to their sympathy. 

And not only is the fugitive peculiarly fitted for the work of 
aiding those who have iust come from the house of bondi^e, 
because of his experience in suffering, but none can describe so 
gi^phically the workings of Slavery, and present so dearly its 
different phases, and make so stirring and pathetic appeals as he. 

Undoubtedly, Douglas, Bibb, Brown, Clark, and others, 
would have been distinguished men had they been raised on 
the soil of freedom ; but neither ot them would have been able 
to portray the wickedness and cruelty of Slavery with. such 
amazing power, had they not been within its grasp and felt its 
heavy scourge. 

Multitudes have listened to Mr. Loguen on the subject of 
Slavery, and thousands have been moved to tears, by his affect- 
ing narrative. 

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